Castle Christmas Special
by chezchuckles
Summary: A chapter by chapter look at the Christmas holidays of the various AUs. A post every day of December in which we dip into the universe of Castle and Beckett from my previous stories. Begins with Vice. Ends with Advent.
1. Vice - Chapter One

**Castle Christmas Special**

* * *

Happy Holidays!

Thanks for coming along with me on a new Christmas adventure. Don't worry. **Advent** has its place here, as well as **Close Encounters**, **Frog at the Bottom of the Well**, **Unvanquished**, and** That Familiar Feeling **among others. The idea is that each AU gets a chance to tell its Christmas story. I'll mark the chapter with the AU in which it is appearing so that you'll know what universe we're in, and if the story requires more than one chapter, then it will be labeled: **Vice - Chapter 1, Vice - Chapter 2**, etc.**  
**

If you have questions, if you have requests, let me know! I've completely written about three-fourths of these, but that's not to say I can't include something that you've long loved and want to see more of. I plan on posting one every day of December.

I wish you and yours peace and hope.

* * *

**Vice**

* * *

"Beckett," Castle hissed through the phone.

"Shit," she groaned, jerking out of her seat at the cramped desk. "I'm so sorry."

"You're missing her play," he said tightly.

She shifted out from her corner, dodged the officer coming her direction with the results of the query she'd sent down to the records room. "I lost track of time. I'll leave now - I'll make it before the intermission, and then I'll go to tomorrow's show too. I just - I got an idea and forgot everything else."

"I understand the case is... I understand," he said. He sounded like he was hiding, whispering to her from behind closed doors. "But Alexis doesn't."

She gestured for the officer to leave the files on her desk, signed for them with a quick jot of her pen. She locked the cases in her top drawer even as she reached for her coat. "I know that, Castle," she said, trying to remain calm. "I'm leaving right now."

"You should have left two hours ago."

How many times could she apologize? Though maybe he'd hear it when she really meant it. She couldn't apologize for doing her job, for doing what no one had ever done for her - giving the victims' families some closure, an answer to _why._

He sighed. "Alexis thought we'd all have dinner together."

"I'm leaving now," she said again. He couldn't keep dragging her conscience through hot coals just because she left for work early and got home late. This was the job and he'd known that going in. She was a green detective trying to earn her stripes and this was her mother's case. She _finally_ had access and the authority to open it again - all she needed was one good reason, one little thing the detective of record had missed, one shred of doubt as to the official conclusion.

"Beckett," he said. A long pause and the he sighed as if giving in. "I'll re-enact her lines during intermission for you."

She felt her lips lift. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be there soon. I'm coming now, Castle."

"Yeah," he said, but it didn't sound like agreement. And then he hung up on her.

She ended the call with a press of her thumb, stared at her phone for a stupid moment.

"Yo, Beckett," came a voice. She glanced up and saw the guy who'd transferred in from the 54th after the Internal Affairs's investigation had cleared him. He was a decent detective - dogged and loyal - and they'd had a few tentative, burly attempts at friendship. He didn't seem to like Castle though.

"Detective Esposito," she said formally, jabbing the elevator call button again. "You going down?"

"Yeah. You were off a while ago?" he asked. But he said it more like he already knew and was curious what she'd been working on.

"Yeah, I was." She didn't explain she'd been researching her mother's case; she still couldn't quite expose that soft underbelly to anyone else. Not yet. Bad enough that Castle kept asking after it, wanting to dig deeper, wanting her to _talk_ to him about it. She was close - she could feel pieces swimming just out of her reach that might break the whole thing wide open. She wanted to keep it to herself for now.

"I guess that's not your kid?" He was nodding his head towards the photo on her cramped desk.

Beckett chuckled. "What clued you in, Espo?" The nickname had just popped out, but that's what cops did anyway. He didn't seem to mind.

"She's cute," he gave. "But you'll get the hang of it. You seem to be a natural."

Beckett let out a breath, surprised by his reassurance. She made a fist and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You trying to butter me up, Espo? You're being awfully nice."

He shrugged. "Maybe I can tell who's a good detective, who I wanna hitch my wagon to, you know?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're good, Detective Beckett."

She grinned back at him. At least she was good at something.

* * *

Beckett found the diamond ring inside one of his dress shoes on the specialty shelf inside their closet. She'd knocked the pair of shoes off when she'd been rearranging her side, hanging up sweaters she'd pulled out of storage. The velvet jewelry box had rattled and skittered across the wooden floor.

She sank to her knees and slowly picked it up, her heart skittering just like the box had. She pressed her thumb to the seam of the lid, ready to flip it open, but she stopped.

It was a ring - the shape of the box left no doubt - but he was hiding it; he wanted to surprise her.

She wanted to be surprised.

It was three weeks before her birthday and the air had just turned brisk, and she wanted to be surprised.

She already knew what her answer would be.

Beckett put it carefully back inside his dress shoe.

* * *

"This is Agent Sorensen; he's with the FBI. Please make him feel welcome, and extend every courtesy to our law enforcement brothers. We work together and we'll get this little boy back to his parents."

Beckett let out a frustrated breath as Montgomery ceded the floor to the FBI Agent - a good-looking man with an intense air, as if he was used to charming and manipulating his way through life. But when he spoke, he was knowledgable and at ease, and he made the room like him.

Quite a feat for a fed.

So they got to work.

Their kidnapping case was right in the middle of things when Beckett got the phone call. She saw the number on the display and cursed to herself, holding up a finger to Will and begging for a second. He seemed put out by her, but Beckett had to take this.

She stepped out of the group of investigators and headed for the break room, answering quickly. "Castle."

"Hey. Uh... where are you, Kate?"

A thrill washed through her every time he said her first name like that, like he knew her, knew intimate things and places about her. And he did. "I'm stuck here. I told you that homicide led to a kidnapping? We're focused on trying to find the little boy."

"Oh, is that the stuff on the news?"

"Yeah," she sighed, pacing the room.

"Looked gruesome. He witnessed his mother's-"

"Yeah, Castle," she got out, closing her eyes a moment. The downside to having her boyfriend understand her so intimately was that hearing his voice, that soft and supportive rumble, in the middle of such chaos and violence made her feel weak. Like she needed to sit down.

"Hey, I wanted to see if... you know it's your birthday, Kate."

"Oh," she said dumbly, grunting when she realized it had totally sneaked up on her. "It is my birthday. Oh no, you planned something."

_The ring_. She cursed herself and pressed a hand to her eyes.

"I planned... I had reservations for dinner, Kate, but a kidnapping-"

"The FBI is here," she said quickly. "Don't - I can - I'll try to see if I can't..."

"You really can't," he said. "This isn't one you back out of."

"I'm not sure I'm exactly necessary here."

"Of course you are. You're the best detective in that place. And you and I both know the FBI couldn't find their asses with both hands."

"Castle," she chided, but she was laughing. She'd needed that. "This guy, Will, actually isn't screwing it up. So give him credit."

"Oh. Will, huh?"

"Yeah. He knows what he's doing."

"Huh."

She frowned at the quality of that noise, but she couldn't decipher it. "Look, I'm going to see how it goes for the rest of the afternoon. If I can... maybe you can get the car service and come pick me up late? I know you had a plan but I hope you can be flexible?"

"I'll take it. Did you wear heels to work?"

She laughed softly, wondered what image he was painting for himself. "I did. Why?"

"Oh," he chuckled back. "No, I wasn't... just wondering if you'd be dressy enough for our reservations."

"Oh, heels, yes," she said. _The ring._ He'd had reservations and he was imagining it one way and now...

Well, it'd be a fun story, right?

"I'll let you know," she promised.

She was going to do whatever it took to get out of here, make that dinner date for her birthday.

* * *

Beckett excused herself to get coffee, give herself a chance to breathe. The tip hotline had been nonstop for two hours and she was feeling it in the hunch of her shoulders. She rolled her head on her neck and stared at the espresso machine.

Castle had bought it after his first day here. He'd only been haunting the bullpen with her, learning the ropes, but he'd pronounced their breakroom coffee pot a villainous evil and sent the espresso machine the next day. She'd been mortified.

And now she was proud. If a little at a loss. She still had no idea how to use the thing, and she was sorely tempted to call Castle and have him show up to make her coffee for her birthday.

"It's daunting, isn't it?" came a voice.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Will Sorensen striding up to the counter. He reached past her for the evil coffee pot, poured the sludge straight into his mug. "I'm a simple man. I like simple coffee."

She glanced at the doughnut he was nabbing from the box of stale leftovers on the table. "Your sprinkles say otherwise," she noted.

He laughed, turning back to her, raising both mug and doughnut in salute. "Got me. I'm in love with sprinkles."

Kind of silly for an FBI agent, she thought, but it made him human. "How many of these cases do you resolve successfully?" she asked. Even though she didn't want to know.

He bowed his head and eased to the counter beside her. "You don't want to know."

She flinched at the echo of her own mental words and turned to busy herself with the idea of coffee. She longed for the espresso, but she'd have to make do with the precinct's stiff brew - she just didn't have time to put in the work.

She felt Sorensen's eyes on her as she poured a mug, felt his regard as she stirred in creamer.

"Your Captain told me you've only been doing this a year," he said then.

She lifted her head to look at him, wrapped her fingers around the heat of the mug. "Thirteen months," she defended. She heard how stupid she sounded. She was suddenly glad she was wearing a pair of her highest heels; it put her at his level, made him have to look straight into her eyes.

"You're good. You catch things even I'm not thinking of."

She let out a breath and smiled softly, proud of it, proud of the work she'd done to be this good so soon after her promotion. She wanted-

"What are you doing?" she said stupidly. He'd leaned in closer and she was frozen.

"You're very, very good," he murmured and his lips brushed hers.

There was a second where she was too stunned to do anything at all, where the too-smooth slide of his lips blanked her whole being, and then she surged to awareness and stepped back, pushing on his shoulder to hold him off.

He didn't stumble; he only watched her.

She pressed her mouth into a line, placed her coffee mug on the counter so it wouldn't make her look like she was hiding behind it. Power; that's what these boys respected.

"I'm not interested," she said clearly. "It's flattering, but it won't happen."

"Give it time," he suggested, a shrug and a crooked smile. His eyes were beautiful, she noted ridiculously.

"No," she insisted. "Even if - no. I'm - I have a partner."

"Oh." His face flushed. "You're not into - okay. I'm sorry. I was getting vibes that I clearly-"

"No," she laughed, her own face flaming now. "Not that it's any of your business, but I mean. My boyfriend - we live together and I can't see bringing you home."

And then Sorensen laughed too, rubbing a hand down his face. "I apologize. That was forward of me-"

"Which I guess usually works for you."

He groaned and sank back against the breakroom counter. "Yes, all right. My humiliation is complete. Thank you."

She laughed again and whatever tension there might have been was gone now. She liked him, forward as he was, and she could see how - if she wasn't with Castle, Will would be totally appealing.

But she was with someone. And suddenly she wanted very badly to hear his voice.

"Excuse me," she said, still smiling at him as she took her coffee mug up again. "I have a phone call to make."

"Oh no, please don't tell him. He's going to beat me up. He's probably downstairs, isn't he? He's Narcotics. I can tell. Your boyfriend is probably twice my size and carrying his gun right now."

Kate laughed again, her phone in her fingers, and she shook her head. "He's twice your size but he's a writer. His weapon is his words, and that's bad enough."

But she left Will to the breakroom coffee, and she dialed her boyfriend. If he couldn't come down here to make her espresso, he could at least use those words of his to take the edge off.

* * *

They found the boy.

It was not the reunion she'd hoped for, and she couldn't get his face out of her mind. Will enveloped her in a quick but fierce hug. "Sometimes this is the best we can offer. At least they know."

It didn't feel like it was much better - knowing. It felt like her mother's death all over again somehow.

Castle met her in the lobby and took one look at her face and drew her into a better embrace, one that supported. "We're going home," he whispered.

They didn't go out to dinner; they watched Disney movies on the couch with Alexis and her baby-sitter Trina, ate messy mac and cheese from a box, and Kate fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

It felt too heavy, too wrong, to ask about the ring.


	2. Vice - Chapter Two

**Castle Christmas Special: Vice **

* * *

Beckett lifted her head as the surreal silence in the 12th shivered and broke under the assault of a ringing phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the Captain answering his office line, but what caught her attention, what arrested her, was the falling snow just beyond the windows. The white struck her like a blow to the chest and she found she had trouble breathing.

She closed her eyes to it, the lovely quiet, the unassuming snow, and pressed her hands on the edge of her desk. Her head was a riot of memories from the Hamptons and case details and whiteboard markings. She'd taken to putting it all up there in black marker and then using the red to highlight things as they came to her, much like she'd seen Castle do when he was outlining the mysteries for his novels.

Castle.

It was late.

But she was close. And this was her mother's case.

The whiteboard was only in her head for this one, and she'd wanted to use the silence to help her focus, help her remember. Technically the case was still closed and she couldn't reopen it, but she was working on that end.

"Detective."

Her eyes snapped open to be confronted by Captain Montgomery. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed her.

"Sir," she responded, jumping to her feet. She didn't want to be found lacking, not now, not when she needed his approval to open the case.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working on some things," she answered obliquely. He'd already caught her with her mother's case once this year. She might get into real trouble if he saw it again.

"Your mother's case," he said then, like he was reading her mind.

"Sir? No. Not-"

"Don't think I don't see it," he sighed. "Listen, Beckett, you're a good cop, with hope of being an even better detective. But you are burning so brightly over this, you are gonna flame out. And it will not be pretty."

"Thank you for your concern, Sir, but I'm fine."

"Your boyfriend just called me."

Her mouth dropped open.

"He called me because he doesn't think he can call you any more, Beckett. Because he thinks you don't even hear him when he asks if you're coming home. Do you know how pathetic that sounds? Do you realize - even worse - how pathetic _I _feel knowing that I've let you do this to yourself?"

"He called you," she repeatedly dumbly.

"He asked me to check on you, make sure you were still here. He didn't complain; he didn't ask me to tell you to knock off. He just wanted to be sure you were here. Alive."

Had her phone died? She couldn't remember. She needed a new one because the battery was always dying when it said it was fully charged, and she had meant to take care of it sooner than this. She just-

"Do you know that's the third time this week?"

"He's called you three times?" she groaned. Oh, Castle. Shit, Castle, what was he doing to her? Trying to make her the laughingstock of Homicide? He knew what this job was to her. He knew-

"Don't make the same mistakes I made, Beckett. I feel like I've gotten a chance to - to redeem myself with you - to show you a better way."

"Sir? No, I'm fine. Castle and I are fine," she assured him. But he had never asked, the ring had never made an appearance, not once since her birthday. She found herself checking the Christmas presents under their tree obsessively every morning, searching for one that might be jewelry-box shaped.

But it wasn't under his Christmas tree - _their _Christmas tree.

"Did you know that for the first ten years of my son's life, he didn't even know me?"

She closed her mouth, blindsided by her Captain's honesty.

"I tried so hard to atone for... I was running around doing everything in my power to make my career, my _life_, mean something here, to make it count. I saw the crime and corruption in this city as a war to be waged, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to win it."

"I'm sorry, Sir," she offered, not at all sure where Montgomery was going with this. And what was he atoning for? Some teen indiscretions?

"I've spent most of my life walking behind this badge, and I can tell you this for a fact... there are no victories, there's only the battle. And the best that you could hope for is that you find some place where you can make your stand."

Her heart soared. "This is where I make my stand," she whispered fiercely.

"Then I'll make it with you," he promised. "But not tonight, Kate. Not at the expense of your family. I've seen what that man does for you. You weren't having any fun, before him. You were waging war."

It felt like a war, all of this did - not just the case, but whatever this was she'd started with Castle. "I have no intention of hurting him, losing him."

"Best intentions," he warned softly. "I said the same thing. But it happened anyway, and a woman was - it affected so many lives, what I did. I can't undo that. What I can do is insist that you go home, that you _live _your life. You hear me? Doesn't make up for what I did, but it's a drop in the bucket towards my own redemption."

She had no idea what he meant, why he looked like he owed her the world, why his grief pulled so sharply at his eyes. He was grabbing her coat from the back of the chair and holding it out for her, insistent. She had no choice but to slip her arms into the sleeves, collect her bag from the bottom desk drawer.

She felt weighed down. She didn't want to be going, but she saw that it wasn't possible to do anything else.

She wanted to make her stand, but maybe the time hadn't come yet for the battle.

* * *

Castle caught her standing in front of the Christmas tree, a far away look in her eyes and her arms crossed over her chest. He took one of her hands, untucked it from that rigid stance, and he drew her knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

"You okay?"

She roused as if from a long way off, gave him a flickering smile. He'd missed her these last few months, felt as if she had been on a trip to a land he couldn't get to, a place he had no visa for. More than that - a culture he had no language for. Not yet anyway. He was learning fast.

"I'm okay," she answered, and he could tell it was a shaky kind of truth.

"You'll make it," he said firmly. He laced their fingers together because she wasn't one for demonstration. She could do closeness, but she couldn't do cling, and he was learning that too. "I know you've got to do this, Kate, that it's your job. I didn't mean for him to tell you I was calling."

"I'll get a new phone. This week," she said. He saw it as a promise, a hope to do better, but she'd said that last month as well.

"Actually," he hesitated, "why don't I do that for you? I'll put you on our cell phone plan. It's pretty cheap that way."

"Our?"

"My mother," he said, giving a twist of his lips. "Her idea, but of course, I'm paying for it. One more won't make a dent."

"I'll pay you or make arrangements to pay my part each month."

"Kate," he sighed. He looked away from her to help himself ignore the independence she was struggling to reassert, but of course he still felt it like a sting. "All right. I think it's kind of late to worry about that, but if that's what you need to do..."

"I'll give you my phone," she said, offering the statement like a concession. He realized suddenly that it was - it was a concession. His taking on the job of just getting her a phone that would hold a charge - that was a big battle for her. "Tonight, Castle. Here. Let me get it. It's pretty much worthless anyway."

She pulled away from him, but for some reason she didn't let go of his hand, dragging him after her through the hall and to his bedroom. She had moved in with him only six months ago and he knew he was probably moving too fast for her, but he'd been so helpless to stop himself.

He should slow down; she needed him to slow down. He could learn that too. Learn how to be the boyfriend of a cop who was risking her life every day, learn how to love her in the ways that meant something to her. He could; he would.

"Here," she said, reaching out to yank the little black thing from the power charger. "Take it. You can do it tomorrow."

"I will," he said, using his free hand to take it from her. She smiled at him, a hopeful thing, and he realized she was _trying_. For him. She wanted to give him something. She wanted him to know she valued this.

Wow. It was a little pathetic of them both, but it made a difference to him. It really did. Suddenly grateful, Castle wrapped both arms around her and did what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do.

He gave her a bone-crushing hug, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling the scent of her. "Thank - thank you."

"I'm just not good around Christmas," she whispered against him. She wasn't even trying to get away; she seemed to be burrowing into him, deeper. "I can put up a front for everyone else who needs it. For my boss, the guys at the 12th, my dad, Alexis. But you make it okay to not be okay."

"You don't have to be okay," he choked out, his arms tightening. "You can be not okay with me, Kate. Your mom's gone and that sucks - I don't even have the words for how unfair that is - but you don't have to pretend with me."

"I know. I know, but it means you get the worst of it. Of me. And that's not fair to you."

"I'll take you any way you want to be, Kate."

He was a little scared by the leak of desperation in his voice, but she didn't seem to hear it. At least there was that - she didn't seem to see how pathetically he was in her love with her.

_Slow,_ he warned himself. _Go slow._

Maybe it would be better for her to just get through Christmas. He'd already waited this long.

* * *

Castle was jolted awake by a noise he didn't recognize or comprehend, his heart erratic and startled. He grunted and rolled over to empty sheets, blearily pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Dad?"

Alexis was standing at the side of his bed, still in her pajamas.

"Pumpkin. What's wrong?" He struggled to sit up, tried to orient himself to the pre-dawn wake-up call.

"I think Kate just left."

"Yeah, she does that sometimes for work. Why are you up?"

"Oh. I didn't realize she left so early."

He rubbed fists into his eyes and cracked a yawn. His daughter was eyeing the bed jealously, and even though she was eleven, surely that wasn't too old? He reached out and snagged her unkempt pony tail, tugging. "Want to get in?"

She climbed over him and settled in against Kate's pillow, wriggling down deep under the covers. Mostly disappeared in the blankets, she gave him a little smile. "Smells like Kate."

He grunted and laid back down, hands on his chest, eyes drooping. "Yeah. Why were you up so early?"

"I don't know. I'm excited."

He laughed, cracked open an eye and turned his head to look at her. "Christmas is a week away."

"And Santa has a present for _Kate_."

Whoops. "Actually, pumpkin... ah, I was thinking maybe we'd hold off on that."

Alexis bolted upright in the bed, her mouth in a round 'o' of disbelief. "Why?" she cried.

"Oh, hey, no, don't look at me like that. She's still _staying._ She's not going anywhere. I just want to be sure that Kate says yes. That she wants to say yes."

"She wants to, Dad. Oh, she _wants_ to."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, baby bird, but here's the thing. Kate just started her new job as a detective, and you know it's a lot of long hours." Castle carefully left out the fact that a lot of those hours were because she was working on a closed case and technically that was on her own time. "I love Kate, and you love Kate, but Kate might need to have some time to adjust to living in our nest."

"But you said we'd ask together," Alexis huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want to ask her at Christmas. It'd be like a Christmas present for all three of us."

Ouch. "I know you did. But-"

"And Kate _loves_ us. Why wouldn't she say yes?"

"She does love us. No doubt there. But it's kind of like school. Remember when your teachers said you were smart enough to skip fifth grade? But you and me, we decided you'd be better off going to fifth grade so that you could be ready in your heart too, not just your head."

"Emotional maturity, Dad. That's what it's called."

He laughed, watching her roll her eyes at him. "Right. That is exactly what it's called. And aren't you so glad you went to fifth grade? Think of everything you would have missed. Sixth grade is fun, sure, and it would have had its own rewards then, but you wouldn't have known your cool teacher and the friends you made and Paige's birthday party and the books."

"Asking Kate to get married this Christmas is like skipping fifth grade?" she said, doubtfully, her lips pressed into a look that was so _Beckett_ it made him lose his train of thought.

"Yeah," he said, unable to get it back.

"Because Kate doesn't have the emotional maturity to marry us?" Alexis asked, scorn evident in her voice. "That sounds bogus, Dad. That sounds like you're just chicken."

Well, darn. His kid was totally calling him out. Castle struggled to sit up with her at the headboard, wondered if maybe she was right. Was he afraid of what happened next?

"I think we should still ask her. At Christmas. It will be special. We already missed her birthday. You know I'm right, Dad; you always say that I'm the smart one."

Yeah, he was going to have to stop telling her that. She was getting an ego on her and he could envision that being an unholy disaster when she was a teenager, parroting that back to him as a good excuse to do something wildly stupid.

"All right, well, I know that you really want-"

"Dad, please. Please?"

He sighed and turned to look at her, disheveled by the not-quite morning, her pajamas those footed snowflakes that Castle had bought her last Christmas. Eleven years old and so wise but also still just his baby girl.

"Alexis, here's the thing. I'm going to be very honest with you because you and me - you and me, kiddo - we're a package deal. Kate knows that. She wouldn't say no to you, and so she wouldn't say no to me either. But I want her _yes_, when she says it, to have certainty behind it. I want her to want it too."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't she want it?"

Well, that was a good point, and totally childish in its innocence. "She'd want to want it. Does that make sense? But it might not be the right timing, pumpkin. Like you going into sixth grade - you wanted to, but when we talked about it, it wasn't the right time."

Alexis's face fell. She slumped back into the pillow and then curled on her side, burrowed in the covers. "Didn't you and Kate... wasn't Kate the one who said that about fifth grade? About it not being the right time for me."

He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, caressed her cheek. "I talked to Kate about you skipping a grade, yes. And I do think she was the one who pointed that out."

"Then doesn't that... I think that means she'd make a good person to add to our family. I think she's already family, right?"

"Asking her to marry me doesn't change that, Alexis," he said softly.

"Exactly."

Oh. It wasn't new. It was something they were already doing.

But would Kate get that? Marriage was serious; she had a tendency to balk at serious when it came to her personal life.

"And besides, Dad, what are you going to tell Grandpa Jim _this_ time? Two strikes; you're out."

Castle burst into a laugh that made the whole bed shake, his daughter turning her nose up at him in disapproval; she knew he was laughing at her.

"Pumpkin, I think it's three strikes before you're out."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"See? We need Kate. _She_ knows all about baseball. It is baseball, right?"

Castle groaned, dropping his head to his hand. "You're right. We need Kate."

"Yay!"

"Your ineptness with sports metaphors aside, you made a good point. And while we already know she'll say yes, I want you to hold back a little, rein it in."

"Rein it in? My Christmas spirit? You said to _never_ hold back on Christmas spirit."

Castle sighed. "Maybe just the fairy tales going on in your head, sweetheart. You know I'm not Prince Charming."

"No, but Kate can be," she giggled.

"What does that make me?" he growled back at her.

"The dragon she slays!" Alexis giggled again, scooting away from him as he reached out to tickle her. He wasn't sure she'd understood his warning, and he was just trying to protect them all - himself, his daughter's naive little heart, but Kate's as well. Kate had a rawness to her emotions, to her capacity for love, that made him want to wall her up, build a fortress around her so that nothing he did could wound her.

But he knew he was going to wound someone - it was inevitable. Either his sweet eleven year old and her visions of happily ever after, or his fierce and complicated girlfriend.

At least right now, in this strange limbo, he was the only one hurting. And his wound was tolerable - it could heal given time.

"Go back to bed," he told his daughter. "We'll talk about this over cereal in three more hours."

"Can it be waffles?"

"You're pushing it," he muttered.

She grinned and leaned over him, dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."

"I haven't said yes yet."

"But you will. Just like Kate, you'll say yes. You already love me."

She blew him a kiss and darted for his bedroom door, disappearing down the hall.

Oh, he did love her but, _Alexis, kiddo._

It wasn't that easy.


	3. Vice - Final Chapter

**Christmas Special: Vice**

* * *

"Alexis," he warned.

His daughter's dimming smile twisted up for him, but the hurt was still in her eyes. "I know, Dad."

"I just called her, pumpkin. She's on her way."

"We'll make it in time," she said, but she didn't sound convinced. She wanted him to convince her.

"We'll make it," he promised. "Kate's not running that late."

"I'm just anxious. It's the best part of Christmas break and we still have to get our tickets."

"They're at Will Call - means I've already paid for them. They're guaranteed."

His daughter's tension released fractionally; he saw her come down off her tiptoes and land more firmly on the bottom step. She was in her best forest green dress, velvet collar, her hair pulled back by clips. She'd gotten ready all by herself, without even his input about which dress to wear, but he knew she'd been counting on Kate to get home and braid her hair.

"You look sophisticated, Alexis," he said with a smile, drawing her hand into his and leading her down the last step. "Grown-up - with your hair like that."

She beamed, her disappointment forgotten for now. "Thank you. I did it all by myself."

"Such a good job." He felt his pocket vibrate and reached into his coat, pulled out his phone to check the number that was calling. "Oh, look. That's Kate."

He answered and made elaborate faces at Alexis as he talked to Kate, quickly. When he hung up again, he gave his daughter a nudge.

"Hey, she said she's five minutes from our building. We can meet her downstairs."

"Oh, good. That will save time," Alexis rushed. "Let's get our coats, Dad."

Castle chuckled to himself and opened the closet, pulled her black peacoat from the hanger. "Here you are, pumpkin." He held it open for her, smoothed her hair out from under her collar. She really did look grown-up tonight, on their way to see _The Nutcracker_, their first with Kate and her father who were both so reluctant to join in on the festivities.

"Does Grandpa Jim know where to meet us?" Alexis said primly, buttoning her coat.

Grandpa Jim? Well that was new. Castle gave her a face for that and slid into his own. He grabbed his keys from the table behind the couch, checked to be sure the coffeemaker was turned off. "Yes. Everything's in place, you little worrywart."

She wrinkled her nose. "What's that?"

"It means you worry so much it makes a wart. It's how witches get started. All those magic potions are to get the wart off."

"You're making it up," she said hotly, narrowing her eyes at him as he opened the door.

"I don't know, Alexis. Maybe we should check your nose. Make sure."

"You're so mean," she cried, flouncing out past him and running down the hall, her hair flying. But he saw her hand dart up and rub her nose to check.

On the elevator, he curled his fingers down in her coat collar and tugged her against him. "I don't mind that you're worried about tonight. It's true that Kate has missed a lot of dinners and a couple of our movie dates. But she knows this is important to our family."

"I just don't want it to go wrong," Alexis said finally, her arm snaking around his waist. "I want it to be perfect."

"Hey, you know _Grandpa_ Jim's doing good. And you remember what the counselor said? His recovery isn't dependent on you or me or Kate. That has to be his choice. We can't _make_ him make the right decisions. Not even a good night out can do that."

She turned her head and pressed her face into his ribs. It suddenly shocked him how tall she was, how she wasn't the little girl clinging to his knees any more. She had some heavy responsibility weighing her down, things she'd taken on herself, and he struggled to know how to handle this.

"Alexis. Kate's dad is doing good right now. What we can do for him is show him love and encouragement and let him know we're here if he needs us."

"I don't want this Christmas to go wrong," Alexis admitted, lifting her head to him. Her beautiful face was eager and hopeful, such a heartbreaking combination.

"Because I'm asking Kate. Is that why?"

She nodded.

"Alexis, maybe we should wait until New Year's. Or after that - maybe just give all of us a break from the holidays."

"I don't want to wait," she cried out. "I'm so tired of keeping it a secret. I don't want it to be a secret. I want to make her stay."

Oh, and there it was. The heart of it. Alexis wanted to make her stay. Unlike her mother.

He didn't have an answer to that; he could only hope that Kate was ready.

* * *

"That was beautiful," Kate murmured, sliding out of her coat as they came in the front door. Her feet hurt from being in heels for twelve hours, but it was worth the rush straight from work.

Castle gave her a pleased smile that she knew was because she'd made it in time tonight. But he took her coat without comment and then eased Alexis's off of her shoulders as well. "Time for bed, pumpkin."

The girl nodded and yawned behind her hand, shuffled for the stairs. "It's a school night."

"It is." Castle started hanging up their coats, but Kate stood ineffectually in the foyer. They'd said good night to her father at the theatre, and it really was late, but she was a little lost as to what came next. She was out of practice at being a family doing family outings.

"Are you going to tuck me in?" Alexis asked, still yawning so that it sounded silly, normal, and seemed to break the band of tension around Kate's chest.

Castle shut the closet door. "I'll be up in a minute. Brush teeth, pajamas."

Kate glanced towards the stairs and shook off the remnants of her hesitation. "Alexis?"

His daughter turned, clutching the banister, sleepiness in her eyes and making her sway.

"How about I come tuck you in?"

"Okay," Alexis answered easily enough - like it was nothing. Her smile turned sly. "You can read to me."

"Alexis," Castle sighed. "It's late."

"Just a short chapter. Kate likes reading to me," Alexis answered, heading up the staircase as if to outrun her father's disapproval.

Kate mounted the steps behind her and gave Castle an apologetic look.

He waved her off, shooing her upstairs. "I'll get us a nightcap."

She followed Alexis down the hall, lifting a cautious hand to the girl's hair and stroking her fingers through it. "Your hair looked so grown-up tonight. These clips are beautiful."

Alexis touched the clip with two fingers, looked up at Kate. She had her mouth half open as if she was about to speak, but she said nothing. Merely dropped her gaze and opened her door. "I have to get on pajamas."

Kate paused, realized she was interrupting normal bedtime procedures, that the girl was too old to really be tucked in. "Um. I'll find us a book to read?"

"Oh, yes, please. In the play room."

Kate obediently turned for the room across the hall, mortified that she'd followed poor Alexis straight upstairs without thinking. She skimmed her fingers across the spines of Alexis's books, idly paying attention but mostly trying to give the girl enough time to change clothes, listening for the sounds of teeth being brushed in the bathroom.

When Alexis finally appeared in the doorway, she looked hesitant once more, and Kate didn't understand why.

"How about this one?" she suggested, tugging the title from the shelf. "The Last Battle."

"I already know how it ends," Alexis said. Her fingers were plucking at her snowflake pajamas, her hair falling around her face. It looked knotted where the wind tonight had teased the fine strands.

"I know how it ends too," Kate said. "Is that a no?"

"They all die," Alexis answered, looking confused. She reached up and hooked her hair behind her ears in a very adult gesture, but Kate could see pieces of it haloed by the hall light, wild with static electricity - still a girl.

"They die?" she mused. "Oh, I suppose they do. But it means they get to live in Narnia permanently. It's their heaven."

"I don't like that they have to die just to get what they wanted. That they have to _hurt_ so much just to get back to Narnia."

"Sometimes it hurts," Kate sighed. "Life hurts us, Alexis. I'm sorry. That's not very - pretty - and this has been a good night, beautiful, with the ballet. But some of the best things come hard - and that makes them worth it."

"Like _The Nutcracker_," Alexis mourned. She stepped into the room and took the book from Kate, folded it with her arms against her chest.

"Tonight?" Kate asked, not seeing the parallel. Alexis was already turning back for her bedroom, so Kate followed, wishing she hadn't offered to tuck the girl in. It was usually Castle brushing a kiss on his daughter's forehead in good night.

"If Clara's brother had never broken the nutcracker doll, then she wouldn't have come back out after bedtime to try to fix him. And if she hadn't, she wouldn't have been there at midnight when the magic happened. Like you said - life hurts us for some of the best things. She would have missed the magic."

"Oh, you mean the battle with the Mouse King where she saved his life?"

"Yes," Alexis said, a little more vehemence in her words than Kate thought necessary for a nutcracker doll. "You see? If she hadn't saved his life, he never would have turned into a prince. He wasn't allowed to rule his kingdom as a cursed nutcracker. And so she saved him and she was crowned his queen."

Alexis crawled into bed and scooted under her covers, looked like she was getting settled. She kept having to brush her hair out of her face, the static raising it around her head like a mini Medusa, and Kate reached out to comb her fingers through it once. The book laid forgotten on top of the covers.

"Your hair is tangled. Are you going to sleep with it like that?"

"I guess. But don't you see?"

"See what?"

"It's like you said. The hard parts ending up being good for us."

"Good for us, that might be true, in the end. Though what I actually said was that it makes the best things worth it."

"Like Clara. She was crowned queen because of the broken toy and because she stood up to the Mouse King and saved the Prince's life. She didn't miss the magic at all."

"Right. Just like that," she soothed.

"Is that like - like your mom dying?"

Kate paused, hand faltering in the girl's hair. "I'm not sure it could ever be good for me."

"But you wouldn't have met us," Alexis persisted, eyebrows drawn into a concerned crunch. "You said you became a policeman because she was killed, and you _arrested_ Dad - so isn't that something good? All three of us."

She didn't have an answer. And it scared her, not having an answer. Was life a trade-off? Had she lost her mother _so that_ she might gain this family?

"Are we good?" Alexis asked, mouth twisting.

"We're good. We're good," Kate rushed to fill her void, horrified with herself, the question, that it needed to be asked, that it was unanswerable. "All three of us. I promise we're good."

Alexis nodded shortly, shoulders hunched, and Kate didn't know how to fix it - the hesitation she'd had, the pause in answering.

Her fingers caught in a knot of Alexis's hair and she carefully eased it apart. "Let me brush your hair before you make it worse, sleeping on it like this. Can I?"

"Oh?" Alexis's gaze jerked up to hers. "You will?"

"Of course. Where's your brush?"

Alexis pointed to the dresser, the book still resting on the comforter, and Kate got up and grabbed the brush, came back to the bed and sat down on the side.

"Turn around a little."

"I don't want to read tonight," Alexis sighed, twisting in the covers and drawing her knees up. With her red hair down her back and her body folded up, she looked like the drawing of Caddie Woodlawn from the book Kate had shared with the girl months ago.

"We don't have to read."

"I want to dream about the Prince. And the Queen in her castle. About Narnia before they have to die."

But even Clara had to fall asleep again to travel back to her prince, to be queen of the castle, she remembered. Kate's hand stilled for a heartbeat, interrupted in the act of brushing Alexis's hair. _Queen in her castle._ Was Alexis trying to _say_ something tonight? All three of them. Was she probing Kate for a _reason_?

"You want to dream about _The Nutcracker_?" she asked carefully. "Like Clara."

"I want to dream about - about magic. I don't want to miss it. I want it to stay."

Stay? Kate felt like she was stumbling in the dark for this conversation, that she kept running into things she should know, recognize, but the shapes of them were unfamiliar.

"Well, it's almost Christmas. I think that's plenty of magic," she said finally. "Don't you?"

Alexis gave her a look over her shoulder that seemed to indicate that Kate was helplessly such an adult, but Kate didn't have anything better.

"Your hair is long," she said instead, hoping to change the subject and gently send the girl to bed. Downstairs, Castle was waiting, and she probably had apologies to make to him. "It's beautiful. You look like Caddie tonight."

"I wanted you to braid my hair for _The Nutcracker,_" Alexis sighed - like a confession.

Kate froze. "Oh. But I didn't make it in time. Oh, Alexis, I'm-"

"I liked it better this way," Alexis shrugged. "It turned out better. Everyone said I looked grown up."

"You did." Kate resumed her brushing, the guilty fist around her heart easing a little. "Maybe that's what we're supposed to learn about magic, right? Sometimes even when people hurt us - like Fritz breaking the nutcracker doll - like me not making it in time - sometimes magic happens because of that hurt."

"Yes," his daughter sighed. "And it makes the hurt part not so hurt. Right?"

Kate could answer that. There was truth there. "Oh, yes. Exactly. Like the three of us, Alexis."

The girl lifted her chin from her knee, her dreams of castles and princes in her eyes, and she straightened up as if energized, renewed in her purpose. "I need to see Dad. We need to talk to Dad."

"Oh. Okay?" Kate dropped the brush.

"Come on. You too," Alexis said, grabbing Kate's hand.

Beckett allowed herself to be pulled along, mystified by the whole _night_ really. It had started out with a strange feeling that her mother's case just wasn't adding up and had moved to Kate actually finding _other_ victims - people her mother had _worked_ with - and that shock had made her late. And then Castle's careful handling, his light touch as if he might be damaging something between them.

And now Alexis. Talking about death and magic and broken things.

"Dad!" Alexis called from the top of the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Castle was in the kitchen but he quickly headed for the bottom of the stairs even as Alexis flew down to meet him. Kate was dragged along after the girl, shaking her head at Castle in cluelessness. "Pumpkin, what's going on?"

"You have to do it now."

"_Alexis_," he hissed.

Kate stared at him; she'd never seen him angry with Alexis like this - and for no reason she could decipher.

"We need to ask her, Dad. Tonight was proof, like you always say - a sign from the universe. Because Kate and I were talking about midnight and not missing the magic and that's what _happened_ tonight and to the three of us too, Dad."

"Alexis, what's going on?" Kate interrupted. She reached out and skimmed her hand through those bright locks, only partially untangled now. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset. I know what we have to do. Dad, you just have to do it now."

"Alexis Castle," Castle rumbled. His voice held a dangerous tone to it that made Kate stare at him. "It's bedtime. Upstairs. March."

"But, Dad. Just ask her."

_Ask her._

Kate's hand fell away from Alexis's hair, her heart plummeting as well. The ring. The question he hadn't asked her, had persistently not been asking her all this time. The box not under the tree, the box she hadn't gotten for her birthday in November.

She averted her eyes from Castle's frustrated face, stepped back from the temper tantrum Alexis seemed to be throwing. On Kate's behalf, apparently, but without Castle's approval. He'd changed his mind, or it wasn't the right time, or... whatever it was that made Castle look like he wanted to strangle his daughter for bringing it up in front of Kate.

Right. She should - go. Oh, actually, she couldn't go; she lived here. But she could make a graceful exit and leave them to it. "I'm... going to change out of my work clothes," she said, trying to make her voice light, trying not to let it choke her. "Be right back."

She probably left them a little too fast, probably seemed to scurry, but she wasn't sure she was going to make it. In the quiet blue nightlight of his bedroom, the blinds already drawn to block the city's glow, she stood still at the foot of their bed listening to her heart beat too hard against her ribs.

She didn't know what it meant, that oblique conversation, but she didn't think the ache in her every breath was a good sign.

Better get that under control, Beckett.

For the first time in years, her mother's case had pinholes of light coming through, promises of finally seeing an end. She wouldn't feel guilty for straining to see past this darkness. At work, she'd realized in just enough time to make it to Alexis's favorite Christmas tradition, hadn't she? She had felt it was a victory tonight, that she'd successfully managed that delicate balance between personal and professional - even though if she was being honest, her mother's case and her job as a police officer had never been anything other than personal. Deeply, all-consumingly personal.

No wonder she was messed up, unable to keep work at work, finding herself living with the man she'd once arrested on the job and talking about death to his eleven year old.

"Kate?"

He was here. She hadn't even managed to take off her shoes. Kate turned slowly in the dark bedroom to find Castle in the doorway, his little half-grown but too grown up shadow nowhere in sight.

She had tried to manage a smile for Alexis, but since the girl had gone to bed, she let her effort fall. Her hands dangled worthlessly at her sides.

Castle stepped forward. "Alexis has reminded me."

"Reminded you?"

"To leave room for magic."

She blinked. Castle came closer and slowly reached out for her hand. She watched him take it, his thumb rubbing the round bone between her knuckles. "Magic?" she echoed.

"Between us. The power to make this a story that will be told for years and years."

She realized he had trapped her next to last finger between his thumb and index, holding on to that space, encircling it. "Years and years?" she breathed.

He lifted his head and she saw the uncertainty, how it was a step out on blind faith for him. That for all his goofy, obnoxious ego, it was all bravado in the end, a leap into the unknown. He was just as afraid as she was.

"If you'll have me," he answered. "Us. If you can..."

"I can do this," she said quickly, face flaming as she heard herself tripping over her words just to get them out. But it was her honest heart, her guts spilled out. "I can do this, Castle. I know what's at stake."

She pushed in to press her mouth to his, sealing her promise with the heat of them. The cautious nudge of his nose against hers made her gentler, easing down. Her eyes fluttered shut at the touch of his tongue. Smoke and wood, the tease of rich dark chocolate, and she remembered he'd been pouring them drinks; he tasted like coming home at the end of a hard day, curling into him in the leather chair, sitting in the darkness with his arm around her and both of them quiet.

He shifted away from her and his hand was cupping her cheek, holding her up by the barest of touches. "You're already doing it, Kate."

"What?"

"You've been doing it - from the beginning. You have been with me since you came over for dinner that first night and let my daughter ask you impertinent questions instead of demanding to know where I'd taken your father. You had every right to be upset with me, but you put her first. I don't doubt you, Kate. You're with me."

She wrapped her hand around his upper arm gratefully. "I'm with you," she repeated. She really had been doing this all along.

But if that was true... then where was the ring? What had happened to the question?

"But Kate," he sighed.

She drew her elbows into her ribs, braced herself for it.

His lips ghosted her cheek. "Kate, you're with me - and I want to be with you too."

"Then be with me," she murmured, confused by him.

"I'm trying. I'm trying, but Kate you need to let me _help_ you. Just let me help you, Kate."

"Help me?" she asked. His fingers trailed light at her skin, electric and blooming, down her jaw to her neck, skimming her collarbone where her buttons were undone.

"With your mother's case."

She stiffened but the gut reaction _no_ didn't break free, didn't get past the choked up tangle in her throat. His fingers hooked in the top button of her dress shirt and tugged it open, his mouth hovering near hers.

"Let me be your partner, Kate. In everything."

She lifted her eyes to his, and his hand came to press over her heart, skin to skin, his thumb running just under the edge of her bra. Her partner. "What are you asking me?"

His hand curled and fell away; he stepped back but he still had those intense, fixed lines on his face, the accumulation of seasons. "The timing is all wrong and I know this isn't exactly romantic or the big gesture it should be, but give me five seconds."

"What?" She stood bewildered in the middle of the bedroom as he disappeared inside the closet. And then he returned with a shoe.

His shoe.

"I'm not a prince, so the glass slipper thing is a little... never mind. This is sounding a lot more stupid out loud than it did in my head."

She took a half-step forward, but he was sliding down to his knees, then one knee, and he pulled the jewelry box from the toe of his shoe.

"Detective Beckett-"

She sank down on the bed, staring at him.

"I want to be your partner. In all things. I want to go through the evidence with you and figure out motive and call you home when you're running late and share the decisions over Alexis and write this story. For always."

His fingers fumbled on the velvet box and then it popped open, a flash of white light shimmering to blue in the dim room. Castle pulled the ring out, the box dropping to the floor and he scooted towards her, half knee-walking and half-hunched, caught her hand with his.

"Kate?"

"I... was that a question?"

He bowed his head and she squeezed his hand, stomach flipping, and said the scariest, most brave thing she'd ever had to say.

"I need you." She saw his head come up, his eyes catch hers. She took a breath. "I need a partner. I can't - I don't want to do this alone. My mom's case or any of it."

The corner of his mouth curled up. She leaned in to take the ring from him but Castle caught her hand. "Was that an answer?"

"Give me my ring," she growled. "You've made me wait since my birthday."

He laughed and his smile stretched deep, happy. She'd made him happy. He slid the band on her finger himself, fitting it down against the knuckle.

She had his ring.

And then his mouth was on hers, hands framing her face as he leaned in on his knees, his body solid and something to hold on to. She curled her fingers in his hair, felt the ring catch on the stiff collar of his shirt and tug at her awareness, her lips twisting away from his kiss and into a smile.

"You like it," he breathed.

"Yeah," she grinned. "I like it."

"You love it."

"I love it," she confirmed. "I love you. Partners."

Something tight and fierce transformed his face, burst into his eyes. "We can do this, Kate. I've got a lot of resources, people owe me favors. Two heads are better than one, right?"

She knew what he meant, her mother's case, could see by his earnestness that he wanted this for her maybe as much as she did.

"You said it," she said, purposefully misunderstanding him. "We're already doing this."

She felt it when his breath caught, saw the stillness arrest him. She had no idea what thoughts took him, no idea if he understood. And then his hand dragged down her neck to her sternum, possessive and seeking, and his finger hooked in the chain she always wore. He tugged and brought the ring out into the light, curled his hand in a fist around it.

"We're already doing this," he promised.

Her hands shook as she covered his; she couldn't help bringing his knuckles to her lips in a kiss, aching in some dark place. She gave him a broken-hearted smile and he took in a breath. "Waiting since your birthday? Someone found the ring, huh? Snooping through my stuff."

Just like that - with only a few of his words - she was broken free of her dark places, light spilling in, and the ring on her finger flared as she curled her hand at his neck again. "Yeah," she admitted. "You do realize you're marrying a detective, right?"

"I don't think I had any idea."

* * *

_the end of Vice_


	4. John Doe

**John Doe**

* * *

**co-authored **by **Sandiane Carter**

* * *

_June 2013  
X_

"Ha!" he crows. "Told you so."

"No," she repeats numbly, staring. "No, that's not... possible."

"Of course it's possible," he chortles. "What do you mean, not possible? Do I have to give you the same talk I gave Alexis at eleven? Because I should probably brush-up first-"

"Shut up," she groans, closing her eyes against it.

"I told you we'd have twins."

Kate startles at his pronouncement, stares first at the horse in front of them then the vet. Dr Grieves just shrugs at her - because of course he has no idea what Castle's talking about - and then Kate laughs. "Castle, that... you're ridiculous. You said it was a boy and a girl in your dreams. Not twin _horses_."

"Yeah, well, you know. I also had a concussion and nasty case of amnesia. I'm sure the details just got jumbled up."

He strokes his wide hand down the mare's flank, patting her softly. His face has that deep grin, the lines spiderwebbing from his eyes because of his Montana tan.

The vet shakes his head. "Well, she's a rescue - and that's good on you for taking her in - but she should never have come to this. Was she a PMU mare?"

Kate is totally blank on that one; she glances to Castle and it looks like he's done his research because he shakes his head. "No, not that we could tell. She was slated for slaughter, but it's possible the guy trying to get rid of her thought to sell her off to a PMU farm."

"What's that?" Kate says, glancing to her husband. His face is serious, set in those lines he has when he's come across something distasteful. "What's a PMU farm?"

"Farms will stall pregnant mares to collect their urine and use it to create an estrogen drug for women."

Kate shoots a horrified look to their rescued mare, pregnant when they got her a few weeks ago, and then back to Castle. "You're kidding me."

Castle lifts an eyebrow and shakes his head. The vet is rubbing two fingers at the bridge of his nose and sighing. "It's a prevalent practice in the US and Canada. And despite your mare's previous neglect, she seems to be adjusting well. We'll keep an eye on her."

"Thanks for coming out tonight, Dr. Grieves," Castle says to the vet. "She'll be okay?"

"We'll have to keep a close watch on her. It's too late now to do anything about it. It looked like the smaller one was hiding behind his brother."

"Can you tell they're boys?" Kate asks, surprised. The mare even _looks_ like she's knocked up with twins, and Kate feels for her. "Sorry, foals. Colts? I don't know."

The vet winces, probably at her lack of technical terms. "No, I don't know the sexes. I was using a figure of speech. I'm just sorry her previous owner didn't care to catch it earlier. Twin pregnancies are incredibly risky. It's - well it's doubtful that both these foals will survive. So you won't get twins."

"You hear that, Castle?" she mutters at him, lifting an eyebrow. She's been fending off his whole _but we have twins in my dream _stuff for two years now. She's not interested in any more of those so-called prophetic dreams. Though she aches to think the mare will lose hers.

Castle ignores her pointed remark and continues on with the vet. "Should we board her with you? We're not here year-round and I don't want anything to happen."

"For now, she can stay here. When it's closer to time, we'll think about moving her to my property. But you've got an excellent stable master - best in Montana, I've heard - so let's not worry about it until winter."

"Winter?" Kate murmurs, glancing at their poor horse. "How long are horses pregnant?"

"About 345 days. Or eleven months. So in November or December, we'll look at moving her."

"We can probably be here for Christmas." Castle looks concerned, the expectant father, and he gives her a questioning look.

"Yes, of course," Kate agrees. She feels ridiculously tender for him, the way he runs his hands over the mare as if in apology for the double-ness of her duty, and so Kate slides a little closer to him, pretending he's just blocking the fierce sunlight that comes in the open barn door.

So they're having twin horses on their ranch in Montana - the one Castle bought her for a wedding present _just in case we have to make a run for it - you know, in the event of a hung jury_.

Sweet, goofy, aggravating man.

Castle drops a hand from the mare and she takes it, fingers lacing with his, inhaling the scent of warm sweat and horse, the tickle of sweet hay and the particular musk of her husband out here. Like laundry and leather, like urban cowboy.

They follow the vet back outside the barn, being careful to make sure the gates are latched, and she wonders where Castle put that silly Stetson he bought last week when they first came out here for their summer vacation.

Might have to get that out and... ride.

* * *

_December 2013  
X_

The sun is setting slowly over the vast expanse of land, pink tinging the white clouds, the thin pellicle of snow on the ground sparkling golden with the light. Castle buries his hands deeper in his pockets and takes a long inspiration, feels the bite of cold winter air spread into his lungs. Originally he bought the ranch as a sort of joke - well, not really a joke, more like insurance, a way to ward off all the bad stuff that hasn't happened but still might. The trial will take time, years and years probably, and he and Beckett are key witnesses, essential pieces to the complicated puzzle the city's attorneys are still trying to piece together.

So, yeah, he bought the ranch as a talisman. And it was part of his promise to Kate. _Whatever happens, we're in this together._

But he never expected to like it so much. He's a city guy; he's lived most of his life in New York and he's not exactly big on nature. Sure, he likes the occasional hike through the forest, likes to go snorkeling and admire the fish when he's on vacation, but these things have a clearly defined end time. Then he can go back to his people-surrounded, exciting, bestseller novelist's life.

Except that's not his life anymore, is it? Hasn't been for a while now.

Good thing, too.

He hears the snow crack behind him and he smiles to himself, doesn't turn. He lets her come to him.

"Hey," Kate says, her voice smooth and low, gorgeous. It's a kind of miracle, that after all this time a simple word spoken by her still makes his heart catch and still.

"Hey," he says back, turning to look at her. She's got that deep green beanie hat on that he loves - brings out her eyes - and tendrils of hair have escaped from her braid, frame her pink cheeks. In her gloved hands are two full, steaming cups of coffee. "Ohhh, coffee," he says with relish, relieving her of one of the cups. "Got something to ask me, Beckett?"

She snorts and shakes her head, bumps her shoulder against his. The dark liquid sways dangerously and Castle hisses, can't keep a few drops from spattering over the white snow.

"There's more than enough left," Kate laughs when he pulls a disappointed face. "It's too hot anyway; you'll burn your tongue if you drink it now."

He gives one last mournful glance to the wasted coffee and then looks up again. The sky is darkening, the clouds long stretches of vivid red and purple now; he lets out a sigh, some place inside him filled up with the sight, his writer's brain pondering the best possible description.

"Beautiful," Kate murmurs next to him, resting a cheek to his shoulder. He's wearing too many layers to feel the softness of her skin, but his blood purrs anyway from the remembered touch. "Don't you just love this place?"

He grunts his agreement, thinking privately that the best feature of their ranch is still - by far - the woman leaning against him. "How's Annabel doing?"

Kate chuckles - she keeps doing that, even though _Annabel Lee_ is clearly the best name ever for a horse. "She's good. Eating twice as much as usual. I think she enjoys being touched; you should've seen the looks she was giving me when I groomed her. Practically begging for more."

"Good," he says, the knot in his chest easing up a bit. "That's good."

"You're really worried about her, huh?" Kate takes a sip of coffee and then smiles at him, such tenderness in the tilt of her head. "It's sweet, Castle."

"I just want her to be okay," he says, but his voice is too tight and there's none of that nonchalant vibe he was aiming for.

Kate watches him with those too-knowing eyes, lifts up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. He didn't shave this morning and his stubble is probably not the nicest feeling, but still she lingers, warm and solid against him. "She'll be okay, Rick. I've got a good feeling about this. It'll all be okay."

He winds an arm around her waist, breathes in the smell of her, familiar and entrancing at once, his wife. It's getting darker and they should probably head back inside soon, but he takes this moment - holding her, having her - and he lets it last until finally her words have settled over him, until finally he believes her.

All will be well.

* * *

She wakes alone on Christmas Eve in crisp, cold moonlight.

He's in the barn again, she knows. Even though it's after midnight and the wood floors are probably freezing, Kate gets out of their bed and reaches for one of his sweatshirts. Her toes pop as she heads for the closet, looking for socks and boots, and she pulls them on over her leggings.

Castle has really taken to their pregnant mare. It's the first the ranch has rescued, and she expects it will become a thing for them. They have good people here, the stable master is a gentle man with twenty years experience who has been steadily bringing in others to help.

She wonders if next winter will see the stables filled with rescue horses.

Kate shivers in the sweatshirt even as she tries to go quietly down the stairs. Their house is a sprawling two-story ranch with all the ultra-modern, geeky things Castle loves - the sleek televisions with satellite internet connection, the computer panel in the kitchen, the fancy espresso machine - but it's home for Kate as well.

She was the one who picked out their couch and the paint; she designed the kitchen when it was being built and insisted on separate walk-in closets in the master suite. These are her choices in here, the echo of their combined personalities, and even though it was a wedding present, she feels an ownership of the place that draws her back every summer.

And now this winter, for the mare's sake, they're here again.

Castle's coat is missing from the hooks along the back wall of the mudroom, but his fleece pullover is still hanging there. She takes it and slips it on as well, burrowing her hands in its pockets as she pushes her hip into the door.

It pops open without her even needing to twist the knob - a quirk they keep meaning to fix but haven't yet. The back porch is laced in frost - a spider web of ice in intricate patterns all the way to the steps. She moves carefully and then trudges through the bare sheen of snow that has fallen overnight.

The light is on in the barn, and Kate heads for its inviting warmth, hunching her shoulders against the wind.

She has to lift the bar to push open the barn door; it's noisy and complicated and so Castle is warned when she finally gets inside. He and the vet are both here, Dr Grieves, and they've pulled up chairs in front of Annabel's stall, though Castle has to twist around to look at her.

"Clint is around here somewhere," Castle says in greeting. Their stable master is probably walking the grounds; he's a man who likes to roam.

"Is it time?" Kate asks, surprised he didn't wake her for this.

"About time," Dr Grieves answers. "Though it could take all night. We're being careful."

Because of the twins. Kate nods and comes up behind Castle in the chair, slides her arms down his shoulders and leans in to kiss the top of his head. "It's late. Early - Christmas Eve, Rick. You going to stay down here?"

"Until we know more," he murmurs.

Kate lifts her eyes to the vet. Dr Grieves shrugs at her as if to say _I can't talk him out of it._

"You should come back to bed. I know Clint will wake us when it's finally time."

"I know," he replies. He lifts a hand and closes it over hers, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. "I feel I should be here."

It's not his fault the horse is pregnant with twins, not his fault the previous owner was neglectful. But this has always been Castle's true heart, hidden maybe at times, but there nonetheless. He feels responsible for those in his care - and whether that's an archaic notion or not, she doesn't know, and it would be impossible to try to convince him otherwise.

She wouldn't want to anyway. This is the _John Doe_ of him, the man who instinctively tried to save her, do what he thought was best for her, even though he didn't quite understand why. The blank slate of Castle was always this man, the good man, and she loves him for that.

His Stetson is propped up against the empty stall next door and Kate leans over to scoop it up.

"All right, get me a chair," she says, scratching her fingers at the hair on the nape of his neck. "I'll keep watch with you."

* * *

Dr Grieves stays inside the wide stall with a lying-down Annabel while the mare sweats through another seemingly fruitless contraction. Clint squats close by and strokes her head, talking in a low voice to her, the mare's ears pointed towards him, straining, as if needing that point of reference to anchor herself.

It looks like pain. Kate wraps her fingers around Castle's forearm and leans in to him.

"I don't know that it's worth it," Castle husks. "Can it possibly be worth all this?"

"She'll be okay," Kate says automatically. The barn reeks of horse sweat and too-sweet hay, but there's no fear in it. "She's tough."

"She's tough," he murmurs. "Yeah, but just because she's tough doesn't mean she should be put through this. I don't know why we couldn't have - taken care of this, even then?"

"Castle," she chides softly. "You know what the vet said. He was too late; it had already happened. Best we can do is be with her now as she goes through it."

Castle flinches as Annabel rocks onto her side with the force of the contraction, her belly heaving and going still once more. Kate presses her nose into Castle's shoulder, the soft plaid at her cheek, watching the mare _work_ at it, but Annabel gets back on her haunches again, tail arcing and her neck glistening with sweat.

The contraction heaves through her, legs twitching, and she rolls to her side with it, her legs jerking with the effort.

"Not long now. For the first foal, at least," Dr Grieves says.

Annabel Lee is a piebald, black and white spotted though the white is merely on her hind quarters and across her back. Those white patches are dusted with hay from the stall floor, and Kate longs to go inside and brush her off, _do _something to help, but they can't.

When the mare struggles up again, squatting in the stall, Castle crosses his arms over his chest, shifting on his feet. "Doesn't seem worth," Castle grunts. "All this. It doesn't seem right."

"It is though. You know it is. Some things are worth it."

Must be the way she says it because he glances at her, a frown creasing his face. "It's worth it, Kate," he says quickly, uncrossing his arms and taking her hand. He brings her knuckles to his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know the trial is - it's taking a while and it's putting a lot of our life on hold. But it's worth it to me - the wait."

She swallows hard and glances to the snorting horse, Annabel Lee twisting back onto her side and staying there.

"Kate."

She nods. "It is. I just... I guess I didn't expect our delivery room to be in a barn."

She feels his fingers come to her cheek, a tentative brush of her hair behind her ear. "Are you talking about the court room? Finally getting closure?"

They haven't talked about this. Not like this. They got married and it was beautiful, it felt like finally taking in a full breath, but the trial has taken up everything, all of their time and energy and focus. There's been so little room for anything else, which is why these few and far between trips to Montana have been such a balm for her, a way to center herself once more.

"I mean the hospital," she admits, shrugging away his touch.

"Kate, look at me."

She does then, even though she knows she's letting it spill out into her eyes. She's been able to ignore his amnesiac vision of twins as too preposterous, as not only unlikely but even delusional. She's scoffed and then she's sent him to the neurologist to get his head checked again, but - but she has dreams too.

Even if they're wild and far-fetched, even if they're crazy and unobtainable and impossible for them right now.

Even if it's not twins. She doesn't even know if she _wants_ a baby (does she? so much work and so little sleep, and babies just don't appeal to her), but being told no, being told daily that her life can't fit one more thing, that maybe it's not meant to be, that her mother's murder really does consume her...

"Hey. So what if our labor is through this trial?" he murmurs, thumb at her cheek. "I don't need dreams of twins and lightning storms - my dreams have come true, Kate. You're my wife. You're what's real."

She reaches up and catches his hand, kisses his palm with something like that feels like regret. She doesn't want to have regrets with him, not after his amnesia made every day apart a regret. She wants them to _hope_ for things. "But you should - we both should be allowed to dream."

"I see feet," the vet interrupts. "Oh, look at that. Good girl. Good girl, just like that." Dr Grieves kneels behind the mare and grasps the spindly hooves that have crowned. "Here we go."

* * *

So small.

The second foal is so small, his legs so thin; every time Castle looks at him concern climbs up his throat. The first one is taller, is already on her feet after a few unsuccessful tries, but the little one hasn't even moved. It's just lying there on the hay, as if breathing is really the best he can do.

There's a boy and a girl. Just like in Rick's dream.

Dr Grieves looks relieved, even pleased as he steps out of the stall, but Castle's eyes keep traveling back to the weaker twin. "We'll keep a close eye on them," the vet says, running a hand through his thick grey hair, "but honestly, this couldn't have gone any better. I'm not sure you realize how lucky you are. Both foals and the mare alive and well - it's not unheard of, but that's my first time witnessing it myself."

"Thanks so much for your help," Kate says warmly. One of her hands is still wrapped around the wooden bars that line the stall, like she can't let go just yet, like part of her is still reveling in that amazing thing they got to witness, two babies being born. Looking at her radiant face, Castle can breathe a little easier. "I don't know what we would've done if you hadn't come over."

"Just doing my job," Grieves says with a smile. "Well, I think it's safe for me to leave now. If you wait another ten-fifteen minutes, you can go into the stall then, congratulate Annabel on a job well done. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to check on them. Or well, later today, I guess."

He gives a tired chuckle and reaches for his coat; Castle walks him out, ruminating on his concern for the smaller foal. It must show on his face, because as they shake hands the vet says, "It's normal for twin foals to show signs of prematurity, you know. They take a little longer than normal to develop, just because they had to share resources in their mother's womb. But your foals are doing great. It's a really healthy mare you have there."

Rick nods, feels the knot in his chest loosen. "Thanks again."

He stands outside for a minute, watching Dr Grieves drive away. The night is a fierce, ferocious kind of cold, leaves his teeth rattling as he heads back into the barn, but he's still grateful for the clear, star-filled sky, the endless stretch of Montana at the horizon. No place in the city can give him that sense of peace.

Inside he finds Annabel Lee on her feet, the tallest foal - the girl - nuzzling at her mother's side, probably looking to nurse. The smaller one is still lying down, but that's normal, _normal_, Castle reminds himself. Nothing wrong.

Kate is watching the horses with intent eyes, clearly dying to step into the stall and touch the tiny creatures. Rick crowds at her back, rests a hand at her hip, and she leans into him with a little sigh. "They're gorgeous," she says, so much _want_ in her voice. "Did you see how the feet came out and then the head-"

"Yeah, I know. Felt like a kind of miracle, huh?"

"It did. It really did."

They both fall silent, the stable only filled with the sounds of the filly suckling, and Castle's eyes drift to the other foal: it's quietly trying to stand in the corner. "Kate," he breathes, squeezing his fingers around her elbow. "Kate, look."

The colt's legs are wobbly, about three times as long as its little body; it's obvious he doesn't know what to do with them. He tries putting his weight on his front legs first, gets his butt up in the air only to tumble ungracefully onto his side. Kate huffs out a laugh, but Castle is holding his breath, murmuring mental encouragement to the small thing. _You can do it. Come on. You can do it._

The foal tries once, twice, three times more, falls back onto the hay. At this point Annabel Lee moves closer, abandoning the nursing filly to nuzzle her trembling colt: it looks like she's trying to coax him up, show him the way, and the scene is so tender that Castle has to put a hand to the stall to keep himself steady.

And at last, at last the little foal gets his front legs under him, gathers enough momentum to push himself up slowly. His balance is precarious at best - he's likely to fall down in a heap the moment he tries to take a step - but still he's standing for good. Castle feels Kate's hand crushing his fingers, finds her beaming at him when he looks over.

Without thinking he leans into her and covers her mouth with his, tastes her joyful smile, her eager tongue. She's pliant and warm against him, her arms wrapped around his torso, and for a stunning, dizzying moment he wants nothing more for them than this life at the ranch, watching the twin foals grow into mature horses, seeing Kate's face soften every time he whispers to Annabel Lee.

He breaks the kiss and stares at her, grateful, humbled, amazed, until finally her eyes fly open again. They're a hazy, liquid brown in the half-light. "What?" she whispers.

"I love you," he blurts out, irritated at how insufficient, how shallow the words are. "I... Kate. You're-"

She smiles at him, not in amusement but in understanding, and she lifts up on tiptoe, presses a long kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I know," she says. "You too, Castle."


	5. Frog At the Bottom Of the Well - Ch One

**Frog At the Bottom of the Well**

* * *

Beckett unlocked the door to her apartment and pushed her way inside, finally home. She was grateful all over again for lock tumblers that didn't grind and conspire to keep her out, grateful for a warm interior and the expanse of windows, grateful - so very grateful - for the clean and organized and _hers_ way of it.

Her apartment. She closed the door behind her and couldn't help leaning against it for a moment, letting the ease settle down into her bones. She was broken, but here - inside these walls - her jagged edges never caught on anyone else.

It had been a long December capping an awful year. Montgomery murdered. The whole sordid thing spilling out about what he'd done, what he'd covered up, and still no answers. She'd kissed Castle in February only to be shot in a cemetery three months later - his broken love whispered to her as her soul bled out to the afternoon sky.

_What I have, I can give you_, she'd promised him, that first evening inside her new apartment. How presumptuous of her, how arrogant to think she had anything at all to give him.

She'd given him nothing of herself all summer. The echoing pain, the agony of rebuilding muscle, learning to live with a target on her back - everything centered on surviving, existence, taking the next breath. She'd been so filled up with herself that there hadn't been any room for him.

The road back to him was still a path she was traveling, feeling her way blind. It'd been getting better, right? She was getting better and so _they_ were better too.

From her spot at the front door, weak and shaky with the relief of making it through this last case alive - handcuffed no less and a tiger trapped in the room with them - she saw the chair.

His chair, her chair, the one she'd released into that day at the designer's studio, the one that made the world stop. It still held that power over her, even after everything. Sometimes it seemed like not even PTSD could chase her there.

Kate pushed out of her shoes as she walked towards the stairs that led up to that decadent chair, drawn as if by an invisible cord. She shed her coat and left it hanging over the brass barre that ran along the wall, mounted the steps with feet made lighter by every step.

She lowered herself into the plush cushions and let her body relax.

As always, the relief of being home came wrapping around her, holding her up, making the day not quite as bad as it had been, making her mistakes feel less damning.

She was so tired of fixing things, of scrambling to make it right again. She hadn't been for Castle what he'd needed, let alone what he'd wanted, and this whole fall had been a season of owing him - coffee and time and respect.

She wasn't making such great progress, was she? She did damage at every turn. She wasn't the person she wanted to be and though the therapy was helping, it wasn't helping fast enough.

It was tempting, alluring, to quit. Go in to work tomorrow morning and pretend there was no _them._

Tempting, but her whole being cried out against it. She couldn't. She might not be the _more_ she needed to be, she wasn't even close, but being without made her sick.

She'd had enough of this.

It would be Christmas in a few weeks and it was supposed to be a season of hope. She wasn't giving up on this, on them, on _herself._ She was doing the work and she was getting better but in the meantime-

In the meantime, it was Christmas.

And Rick Castle loved Christmas.

* * *

He gaped at her when he finally opened the door. He'd taken so long, she had expected laser tag gear or a mechanical arm, something that had absorbed him like no other. Kate tilted her head, confused by his shocked reaction, but he blinked and stuttered and let her inside.

He was blushing?

"Oh," she laughed, catching on finally. "No handcuffs, Rick. Sorry."

His ears went pink and his eyes crinkled with embarrassment - or perhaps arousal - but his hand came to her hip and tried to guide her towards his couch. "Too bad. Though I do have my own pair."

She resisted his tugging, stayed in the foyer. "Get your coat."

"My coat?"

"Yes, your coat, Castle. Come on." She shifted away from his touch to open the closet door, pulling his black wool coat from the hanger. She didn't hand it over, only held it out, waited for him. He gave her a mocking look but turned, slid his arms into the sleeves as she helped. She did his usual gesture of straightening the collar, and then she walked around him to see his face, trailing her fingers along his shoulder. Intentionally. She didn't do a lot of touching, afraid she'd be promising more than she could deliver, but the time for holding herself stiffly apart from him was over. She'd been shot, she'd recovered - it was time to start leaning in, use that once-damaged heart. Build up her endurance.

"Beckett?"

She curled her hands in his lapels and pulled herself in close, met the broad wall of him with the strength of her own body. "It's Kate."

"Kate," he breathed.

"That's better," she murmured. Her mouth came to his and pressed lightly, breath and lips, the slightest pressure and the barest spark. He opened for her before she ever asked for it, always so available, so willing.

Her tongue stroked, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, stealing his breath and words both. He groaned around her tongue and she shuddered, clutched at his neck and curled her fingers at his ear, angling him where she wanted him. Maneuvering them closer, tighter, demanding.

And then she forced herself to let go of that as well, ignored the urge to control, sank back on her heels and stopped asking, started giving. Castle came after her, his hand cupping the back of her head and his palm cradling her cheek, his thighs framing hers and his hips nudging her back against the closet door. She gasped into the query of his mouth, finding everything she'd wanted from him anyway, all he'd been careful to hide, and she hung on to the edges of his coat, overwhelmed.

When he drew back, a nudge of his nose into hers, a soft exhale across her cheek, Kate let out a shaky breath and and pressed her palm flat to his chest. His heart echoed the same confused, excited beat as her own. She had kissed him once before this summer - a good-bye kiss as she asked him for space, as she'd falsely promised to call him tomorrow, his fingers touching the pulse in her neck as if he'd needed the reassurance - and she'd not been able to do it, hadn't been able to go back to that _need_.

They'd had a handful of touches, the tentative exploration of two people with so much to lose, and then she'd been shot, and the drought between _then_ and _now_ made this all the more momentous. And it never should have been. She'd caused them to fall so far behind.

Castle's fingers skimmed her neck as he released her, but the startled joy had given way to pure wanting. "Thought you said next time _without_ the tiger," he growled.

"Which one of us is the tiger here?" she chuckled, laying her cheek against his shoulder. His hand came back to her neck, thumb stroking down over her spine, and then she allowed herself the moment just as she had in her apartment, sunk into the embrace of his body. And then she lifted up and stepped away, ready for what came next.

"Kate?"

"Come with me." She bit her bottom lip and reached out, snagged one of his hands as it fell back to his side. It was time to stop taking so much, start giving.

It was Christmas, right? She was going to stop being filled up by herself and start pouring herself out. Out. She need it out and he wanted it, her; she didn't know why but he wanted the broken things she could give.

"Where are we going?" he said, shrugging his shoulders inside his coat.

"I want your help." _I didn't before, and I'm sorry, but I do now. Does that count?_

Castle lifted their joined hands, brought her knuckles to his mouth for a kiss. _It counts._

"My help?" he murmured. "Always."

* * *

She drove her beat up Crown Vic - to wherever it was they were going. Castle watched her competence, her natural grace, and tried not to look as besotted as he felt. Her coming to him in the middle of the night after a rough case, her eyes looking bruised and her mouth determined, had given him a jolt he'd needed.

Hope, maybe. Affirmation that she was in this too.

He hadn't been sure. She was intense in all she did, but so lackluster when it came to them, so walled up and closed off, that he'd begun to be convinced that a subtle conversation on a swing set was too subtle, that promising to be around for when she was ready wasn't the same as her saying she wanted him there _now._

The farther from the city they traveled, the deeper the night with stars. He touched his knuckle to the window and felt the cold that wanted inside, but the heat blasting through the vents had made them a dark cocoon, the layers unnecessary. Finally. He unbuttoned his coat under the seat belt and loosened his scarf, settled into his seat.

The woods had thickened on either side of the interstate; frost was beginning to form over the grass like lace. It sparkled in the moonlight and echoed the stars above, made the world outside his window seem like a silent film.

He'd given up on talking, on filling the car with noise, after he'd realized she was concentrating. On her directions, driving, on him, on the night, he wasn't sure. But he was finding it easy enough to relax into the shush of tires against the tarmac, the dark wings of bats skimming the treetops, the deep horizon.

He thought maybe that her silence was how she looked for the words to speak, thought she might be turning the phrases over in her head, going round and round them looking for sharp edges like weathering a stone smooth. He had questions but she didn't look like even _she _had the answers, so he kept them deep down, kept them still, and he waited on her.

He was learning to wait.

She released a hand from the wheel and settled it, too casually, on the seat near her thigh. He pretended not to notice and she adjusted her body so that she could rest her elbow on the console between them, despite the awkward position and the police radio and both of their to-go coffees in the cupholders. Her fingers flexed in retreat and then extended once more in a slow dance of determination, like turtles cautiously poking their necks out, and he couldn't bear to prolong their shivering, miserable wait.

He gave in to her not-subtle hint and took her hand, laced their fingers together when he saw her shoulders ease. Like that was all she'd needed, just his touch.

"Castle."

"Yeah," he answered, asked, gave. "Beckett. Kate."

Her smile was a flicker of light in the dark, warm car. "Tell me about Christmas. At your house. Tell me what it looks like."

She seemed to have given up on finding her own words; she wanted his instead.

He'd gladly give them all to her, if it helped.

* * *

Beckett tucked her hair behind her ear as she turned off the headlights. She'd had to park in the grass in front of the sprawling farmhouse, but of course the signs for the place had already given everything away. Still, Castle hadn't said a word about it, had only waited on her.

"You ready?" she asked

"For this?" he croaked. "Picking out our first tree together?"

That sense of _responsibility_ rushed over her so fast she felt it cracking open her chest with the force of its weight. She crunched the car keys in her fist and blinked.

"Joke," he laughed feebly. "Bad joke, Kate. It's just a Christmas tree. It's not the rest of your life."

She opened her car door to ignore the sour taste in her mouth and crunched through the frosted winter grass towards the house. Even though it was night, blue-beamed spotlights illuminated the rows and rows of evergreens and a wide blue tent that was set up as a staging area. The lights were clean, not harsh, and even this late at night, people bundled in scarves and coats, gloves and knit hats were walking through the trees.

"I've been before," Castle admitted, reaching her side and taking her hand. She gave it, her fingers already cold in the sharp bite of the air. "Alexis and I came a few times. When she was little and I wanted to preserve the magic."

"And now?"

"Pre-lit tree. Easier, faster - and Mother's allergic to the real thing."

"Oh," she sighed. Something heavy settled over her still-struggling heart. She wondered if it was the thought of some future Christmas, hazy and so far distant that it wasn't even worth the sorrow now, in which she wouldn't come home to that crisp scent of pine.

Or maybe it was more the idea that Rick Castle - in some small way - had released this particular magic - the fresh scent of a live pine in his home, the needles that showered the floor, the bark scraping the skin when ornaments were hung.

Well, she could give this to him at least. That was something.

"I'm ready, Kate," he answered now, squeezing her hand.

She pointed them in the direction of the staging area, roped off from the rest of the farm's well-ordered forest. Eagen Acres Tree Farm served all of Long Island and shipped internationally as well. They had cultivated and grown four of the world's largest Christmas trees, and usually provided the evergreens that decorated New York City's public squares. The farm was so wide, spanned so much of the horizon, that as far as Kate could see were thick, neat rows of evergreen: the bristle of spruce, the pleasing familiarity of Douglas fir, the delicate thinness of white pine. Between the trees grew underbrush with handfuls of winter wildflowers, thyme and wheatgrass, silkwood and even the pale purple aster.

"How can I help you?" a younger man greeted them. He was outfitted in jeans and a thick plaid shirt, his hands in canvas and leather work gloves, a baseball hat pushed down low over his eyes.

"We - I need a tree," she said, already letting her eyes range over the space. She knew she sounded slightly ridiculous, but she was lost.

The man chuckled, more good-natured about her cluelessness than she'd expected. "Are you looking for a balled tree to plant after the season, or are you looking for precut? Or - do you want to cut it down yourself? I bet he could haul it away if you did the hard work."

She glanced at him in surprise, saw the tease of a smile on the guy's face. He was messing with them a little. It felt strange to be teased again, so easily and without restraints, like she wasn't someone broken.

"I'm not cutting down a tree," she said, allowing a laugh to slip across her lips. She glanced back at Castle. "Rick?"

"These hands are insured for millions. No way I'm even allowed to get _close _to a saw."

"It's not as dangerous as all that," their guide said. "But I understand. Well, that leaves us with a tree you can plant or one precut."

"No space to plant one," Castle laughed.

But actually. "My father's cabin..." She shrugged at the struck look on Castle's face, moved on before they could get bogged down. "No, you're right. Precut it is." She could tell him that story later.

"All right, now that you two know what you want, let's get you looking. We have a wide variety to choose from and we close in about an hour. So if you have any notions of what you like - let me know and that will save you some heartache."

Oh, to be saved heartache.

"The thicker ones," Castle said, as if it were his own tree. And wasn't it though? Wasn't that the point of this?

"Yes," she agreed, though part of her was called to the daintier white pine, the neediness in its bare, thin needles, the lack of artifice in its spare branches. "Like those Douglas fir."

"You know your evergreens," their guide smiled. He was leading them now through the tent's loud clamor of people tying up their trees and workers helping to carry them to cars and trucks.

"Not really an expert or anything," Kate said. "Douglas firs are just classic."

"Classic Christmas trees," Castle echoed. "And they fill up the space well. Make it look warmer."

"Oh," she murmured, glancing his way. "You're right. Yes, okay. The firs then."

"Our south field here hasn't been quite as picked over as the rest, though it's a bit of a walk. I can grab a golf cart if you need-"

"We'll walk," Castle answered, once more stepping up and taking over. Partners in this. She'd forgotten what that felt like, shopping with him, how he asserted himself as if on familiar ground. When they had been looking for furniture to fill her new apartment back in February, he'd ranged his eye over the selections with ease and skill, picking out exactly what she'd needed - and more importantly, knowing precisely what fit her rather eclectic style.

He was right in thinking the Douglas fir would fill that narrow corner by the coat closet better than the white pine. Even with white lights, the fir would be robust and dominating, not allowing any negative vibes, cleaning out her space with its persistent, clean scent.

The floodlights cast strange, stark shadows between the branches and along the ground, but there was so much activity here, so many cheer-filled people, and the trees themselves were so carefully maintained in their straight rows that the darkness couldn't overcome the sense of bustle and purpose, the idea that something good and _worthy_ was coming soon.

It filtered down even to Kate. It slipped in between her bruised ribs and sank down over her still-rebuilding heart and she found herself walking close to Castle, their fingers squeezing together with the slow rhythm of their pulses.

They'd reached the rows of pre-cut fir and their guide left them at the entrance to the stalls of trees. "I'll let you two look them over. Take these tags and mark your likely suspects. Find me when you know which one you want, and I'll help you take it to the staging area."

This was something she could give him. It could be as simple as this.

* * *

He'd presumed.

He'd taken liberties.

He'd forced her to an apartment he'd picked out for her and then he had made her fall in love with it due to the careful seduction of his story-telling. _I feel like I'm both the frog trapped in the only thing he's known and the sea turtle trying to get back to the best thing he ever had. _

And while he'd been atrociously conniving, manipulative even, Kate Beckett had cracked open a sliver of her life and allowed him the chance inside. He'd had to push hard for it, but in the end, she had done the work.

When she'd asked him, _Are you ready for this?_ he had thought he was. He had thought he'd been aching for it.

He'd had no idea.

When she'd asked him the same question in the car tonight, he'd made light of it because he _wasn't_ actually ready, wasn't prepared for what it meant to be finally standing within arm's length of that holy of holies - Kate Beckett's heart. But he wanted to be. He thought that if they did this together, maybe he could be.

So this late evening found him with his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his smile deepening every time she trailed her fingers over a hemlock branch, or a pine, even the scraggly spruce. She was wearing a knit hat and her hair flowed from underneath the cap, spilling down her shoulders, draping along her infinity scarf. She couldn't seem to stay with the Douglas firs - she kept wandering off to look over all the others and then coming back to him here.

Whenever she found another one she liked, Castle dutifully pulled out the orange tag and wrapped it around a branch, marking it as a possibility. Her cheeks were red in the cold, like a Bouguereau painting, her eyes framed by those dark lashes, her mouth sharply smiling. At him. Every time. He found himself telling her atrocious stories and making lewd comments just to spark that smile, or the natural roll of her eyes, and she was letting him. She gave back as good as she got and it was the two of them in sync once more.

He'd been so _very_ presumptuous - bullying even - but here they were, wandering through a Christmas tree farm the week before the holidays, looking for the holy grail of trees.

Beckett turned and wrapped her fingers around the sleeve of his coat, tugged him into her side, her arm snaking through his. He came, felt the grin on his own face widening, and managed to take her hand and tuck it into the pocket of his coat for warmth. "Decided yet?"

"Don't rush me," she murmured.

"We've tagged about ten, you realize."

"This takes _time_. It needs to be perfect. I haven't had a Christmas tree in - a decade."

"No pressure," he snorted, carefully avoiding the reasons behind that one. "Listen, any of those will work. And you know why? Because it doesn't actually have to be perfect. We get it home and we do the work - we put on the lights and hang the ornaments and we _make _it perfect - for us. For the space we have. For the season we're in."

"Well, that's not subtle at all," she said, her smile crooked and a little questioning, but there nonetheless. "Trying to tell me something, Castle?"

"Yes. Most definitely."

She wriggled her fingers in his coat pocket and leaned in against his chest. Her mouth brushed his jaw with a little sigh. "I'm listening."

"Then let's go back through the ones we've got and pick the one that calls out the loudest."

She bumped into his shoulder and turned him around, guided him back down the row of propped up trees, all of them canted and swaying towards the sky - or the earth one. Their orange tags fluttered in a soft breath of wind, and Kate stopped by the tree she'd picked out first.

"This one. It's this one."

She was biting her lip and looking back at him as if he might object.

No way he'd object to her. Never. "It's going to be perfect."


	6. Frog At the Bottom Of the Well - Final

**Frog At the Bottom Of the Well**

* * *

Somehow it became _Castle's_ job to wrestle the behemoth onto her elevator from the garage, manhandling it inside and then jabbing his thumb on her number, ducking out before the doors could hit him. They raced up the stairs to her floor, sweating and breathless (well, Castle was breathless, and she was just breathtaking), and then they sprinted down the hall - trying not to laugh and wake everyone in the building.

It was nearly midnight and the halls were deserted and they owned the night - and this feeling - and he'd never thought it could be so much fun again with them after this summer. Chasing after her and trying to be light-footed, hearing her almost-laugh as he caught the back of her coat - it smoothed all the broken edges of this year's loneliness, this year's waiting.

They met the tree when the doors opened, grinned at each other as they reached inside for its rope-bound branches. The evergreen was rustling with their movements like a stuffy old lady, indignant at being mistreated, but they got it out of the elevator and carried it between them back down the hall towards her door.

It was an awkward fumble of keys to get her apartment open, but they came inside in concert, well-rehearsed now in being chained together after their day and night being handcuffed. Castle put his end of the tree down and took hers, propped the still-bound tree in the corner of the room by the low stairs.

"Do you have a tree stand?" he asked. "Maybe in one of those boxes?"

Her mouth fell open.

"You don't," he laughed.

She looked crestfallen.

"Hey, no. Not-uh. I'm not letting you down _now._" He came in close and kissed her quickly on that sorrowfully surprised mouth, his fingers sticky with sap as he clutched the lapels of her coat. "I have an extra tree stand at home - too small for mine. It will take me no time at all to go get it."

"I don't want you to leave," she blurted out. She looked chagrined to have said it but he only kissed her again, unwilling to let that one go, and when he broke from her this time, he couldn't help tracing his sap-tacky finger against the swell of her bottom lip. She still looked surprised. Maybe because - as he'd known - this was easier than she'd made it out to be.

"I'll be right back."

"You smell like Christmas," she murmured. The broken needles had released that crisp scent of evergreen.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "Go find your ornaments."

He didn't even mind leaving her; he wasn't afraid that the moment would be lost. The night still stretched out, waiting for them, if only they would take it.

She was still standing in the corner by the tree, looking a little shell-shocked, a little lost, when he shut the door after himself. That was fine - better she missed him than she wanted him gone.

* * *

For some reason the world had slowed down tonight, allowed her the chance to _enjoy_ this. It didn't have to be anything other than sharing the darkness lit up with stars, sharing the scratch of fir tree against their hands, sharing the steps forward - together.

She found her box of Christmas ornaments and pulled it over to the tree, and then as she waited for him, she made popcorn and melted a bag of M&Ms into the bowl, licked her fingers of the salt and sweet. She longed for a fireplace and a blanket, a book with a quaint, melodramatic story, and him.

Maybe he'd take her home with him tonight. It felt possible in a way it never had before. When the intercom buzzed and she saw his goofy smile on the video monitor, it _still_ felt possible. Rick Castle.

Kate buzzed him up through the back door and let him in when he knocked; he was carrying a couple bags in his arms that he dropped on her kitchen table with a fierce grin. Yeah, still possible.

He was cute. She was feeling a little stupid for all of this, but he was adorable, actually, and he looked like he had run all the way back. His cheeks were cold from the wind when she leaned in and kissed him; he tasted like peppermint. He tasted happy - and she had done that.

"I bought hot chocolate - it's mocha flavored. And some other stuff."

"Mocha hot chocolate?" she murmured, scant breaths from his lips. She'd somehow forgotten these past few months how very _good_ it was to kiss him. Or maybe just how good it made her feel.

She could do this. The work of breaking down her walls might not be over, but so much of it was in rubble around her feet that stepping over the last of it seemed possible. All she had to do was take his hand for balance and lift one leg over, then the other.

He gave her a cup in its cardboard sleeve and she took a tentative sip, not wanting to burn her tongue when she had such better things to taste. Castle winked at her and pulled the red-metal tree stand from one of his bags, headed over to the corner by the stairs where she'd left the tree. She'd taken the rope off, let the branches spring out, but that was as far as it'd gone.

"You find your ornaments?"

"Yeah," she said, watching his back as he moved, the bunch of muscles that then smoothed out under his shirt. His thighs were thick, his arms sharply defined. She'd wondered, that first year when he'd propositioned her, wondered about it, him, but her focus had been on his smirk and his scruff. The rest of him - how had she not quite _noticed_ before? She'd seen the handsome face and the expensive suits, the perfectly styled hair and the latest gadget, but she'd never seen the strength inherent in his body, the width and breadth of him.

Kate turned around, blowing out a breath and setting aside the hot chocolate, plucking at her shirt where the sweat seemed to spring up, her blood a little too warm. "I made popcorn," she offered. "And M&Ms. You were right. Tastes good together - salty and sweet."

He was grinning when she glanced back at him - he was crouched on the floor wrestling the tree into the stand, his smile infectious and deep. "Told you so. You wouldn't think those two would fit, but they belong together."

"Oh, Castle," she laughed. "Little heavy-handed on the subtext."

He laughed and shrugged, the tree propped up against his shoulder, fir needles scattered over his back where he was being careless about it. She leaned towards him and scratched her fingers through his scalp, equally thoughtless.

The tree tilted precariously as his body went slack; she huffed on a laugh and caught it, raising her eyebrow at him. His ears were pink again and he took the tree back from her, seemed to be shooing her away.

So Kate moved to the kitchen table and started pulling things out of his bags, things he'd apparently brought from home. Tinsel and red balls, a few decorations that looked handmade. "Are these Alexis's?"

"She woke up when I had to rummage around for the key to the storage space. Came downstairs and offered to help."

"Oh," Kate sighed, checking her watch. "It's late. You should-"

"I'm doing what I should be," he chided. "And anyway, Alexis got excited when I pulled it all out again. We have boxes and boxes of stuff. I never can bring myself to throw any of it away, but Mother and Alexis consistently deny me my fun."

"They do?" she smiled, tilting her head at him now. He was working the screws on the stand, his wide fingers hiding his progress. "How do they deny you, Castle?"

"They don't let me put everything out," he pouted. She couldn't _see_ it, but she knew it was there. His tone of voice from beneath those limbs told her everything.

"So you have extra then," she murmured, not even really to him. She picked out a reindeer made of peanuts glued together and smiled. It had a pipe cleaner twisted around for antlers, and the reindeer's googly eyes were crooked, making him look drunk. Kate took it to her kitchen and let it hang from the knob of a kitchen cabinet, a reminder to find it a home later - it was too precious to disappear on the tree.

Castle had brought her unique Christmas decorations, she realized, just as he had placed dishes in her new apartment's kitchen that had been given to her from her 12th precinct family, each last one of them different and distinct. He'd given her back that sense of home, of having rich treasure simply because of the years and the history, and she was once again on the receiving end of his generosity - his thoughtfulness when it came to her.

"There. Come check. Is it crooked?"

She came back out into the living room and eyed the tree critically. "Looks straight to me."

He grinned and dusted off his hands, standing up once more. It was nearly midnight and she'd dragged him outside in the cold to a tree farm, and still he kept _giving_ to her. Kept showing up.

"You found the rest of the stuff?"

"Yeah," she smiled. The whole living room stood between them but she felt him as if his body was only a breath from hers, so somnolent with the way the night was wrapped around them, so content. At ease. "Your family decorations."

He was unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up, smiling as he did it, the dark blue dress shirt making his eyes bright. She wanted that - wanted a claim over it - and she figured she ought to do something about it now. And what better way to claim this night than with a story?

"For our family, Christmas began and ended with the tree," she started. Poorly, but she was going to give him what she had. "It was the start of the holiday - the arrival of the tree - and it was the end. We didn't even really do all that much decorating in our house. No lights in the windows or wreaths. It was all focused on the tree."

She came closer, reaching out to run her fingers through the sharp bristle of needles. Castle stayed still, watching her, and she gave him a smile to let him know it was still okay; it was going to be fine.

"You know what's weird? I just realized. We never went as a family - I think it was my Dad's job to get the tree and he just did it. Never occurred to him to make it into an outing. But it was somehow more special. It would show up one day in November. Usually after Thanksgiving. Bare, huge, taking up the whole space. A gift."

Castle started for the couch but paused; she waved him on and nudged the bowl of popcorn his way. She purposefully headed for their hot chocolate she'd left on the kitchen table, took it up and came back to him.

He took the hot chocolate from her and she sank down beside him, space between them but not much. Enough to let her speak the rest of it. "When my mom was murdered, the tree was still up. I don't - I don't know why. Usually we never left it long after New Year's. But that year we just... I think maybe because I was headed back to college and they were both preserving that sense of holiday."

"Oh, Kate." Not pity - if it was pity she couldn't do this. Instead, her name on his sigh was understanding.

She pushed her thumbs into the plastic lid covering the hot chocolate, lifted her head to look at the bare tree he'd helped her reclaim tonight. "It was - hard. To box everything up and lay memories away, knowing everything was changed forever. My father took down the tree like he always did but when he left with it, took it to the dumpster, everything was so empty. I was the one who put the boxes in storage and then we never took them out again."

His hand came now to her elbow and wrapped around her forearm. She cleared her throat to say the rest of it, because this was something she could give. Or at least something he ought to receive.

"It was good. In a way. Because if I had done Christmas at all, between then and now, it'd have been the tree. And then I wouldn't have all of these." She nodded towards the box she'd had in the extra bedroom's closet, the meager remnants of their Christmas collection. "The explosion would've taken that too. As it is, my dad - there was a not-so-nice Christmas when my dad wasn't sober and... well. Anyway. Those are the rest of them, what I have left that he didn't get to."

"Do you want to open that box alone?"

"No," she rushed out, faintly horrified at the thought. Her throat closed up again. "No. I don't. I want you there. Here. To help me."

He nodded. "I can do that."

"That wasn't the point of this," she muttered, frowning towards the tree.

"Feels like the point. Taking back your life, Kate. Reclaiming all the points in time that got knocked off track and finding a way to do it again."

She felt the smile break through the frustration, slanted her gaze back to him. "I meant - not the point of this story."

He gave her a rueful little grin. "I got it. Well. Not everyone can be a master story-teller."

She did laugh then, drawing her knees up into the couch so she could press closer to him, sitting on her feet and letting her shoulder touch his. "Master story-teller. Mm, okay. Might have to give you that one."

"Getting off topic, Beckett. What _was_ the point of that story?" His hand settled on her knee and his thumb rubbed. It was electric. It made her want to press into him.

She cleared her throat. "The tree. The year my Dad got sober. He got out of rehab a week before Christmas. I didn't think either of us would make it."

"I can't imagine."

"My Dad bought a tree."

"For Christmas?" he asked, surprise coloring his voice.

She shook her head. "No. I don't know. It was a live tree. An evergreen, so technically, it was probably supposed to be someone's Christmas tree, yes - like they have at the tree farm. But he wasn't celebrating Christmas. He'd just bought that cabin and he planted the tree in the back yard."

"He planted a tree. But not for Christmas."

"I was in my first year at the station - just gotten off my probationary period and I'd been assigned to what I'd thought of as an easy house - Manhattan, the 12th. Most everyone else in my graduating class had gotten some of the toughest neighborhoods, with houses that routinely lost cops on duty. But here I was in Manhattan's 12th, working Central Park muggings for the most part."

He gave her a crooked grin. "I bet your dad was relieved."

"I think he was," she laughed. "I went to visit him at the cabin the weekend after Thanksgiving and there was that tree. He said it was a living reminder - he needed something to tethered him, something alive. But he didn't want me anywhere near him for Christmas. And to be honest, it'd been so long since he'd been sober for Christmas, _I _was relieved. I didn't know how to do it with him."

"Do you guys celebrate now?"

"No." She laid her hand over his and traced the bones under his skin, the roll of a vein. "I asked him why he needed a Christmas tree to remind him not to drink. He said that for every day, every month, every year it grew that it was another day, month, year he was sober. He made me promise to cut it down the moment I thought he was drinking again. Cut it down - kill it."

"Did that work?"

"He's sober, isn't he? He wanted something alive in front of him to remind him of how his alcoholism could ruin so many lives. But not me there, I guess. He picked a Christmas tree because he was afraid that if it lost all its leaves in the winter, he'd lose it too. So an evergreen, to remind him even in winter. I asked him why I wasn't enough of a reminder."

To his credit, Castle didn't say anything to interrupt. She took a second to get herself together, be strong again, and then she let out the rest of the story.

"My dad told me that if I were in front of him every day, he'd only want to go straight back to the bottle. That there was too much of my mother in me for him to grieve without the alcohol. But Castle, I didn't understand that until this summer."

He was so still, so very still. She lifted her eyes and saw the same pain echoed on his face that had been stamped deep into her own when her father had chosen a damn tree to be his relief and refuge, a tree to be the thing he loved, the thing to keep him from the brink, to remind him to live.

"He'd bought that cabin the year he got out of rehab and he'd planted a tree to serve as a daily reminder, and when I got shot - when I couldn't even figure out what I was, what I was doing, what would happen, you walked into that hospital room and every agonizing moment was on your face. Your grief was - too much for me. Like mine was too much for my dad."

Under her hand, his arm went taut. She searched his face for understanding, but she didn't know if he possibly could. She hadn't. Not until she was shot and needed something that wouldn't _want_ things from her, wouldn't _need_ her to be more than she could give.

"I went to my father's cabin to get _through _it. To live another hour, day, month. His tree, that evergreen tree, was right outside and I'd sit underneath it, cool in the shade, and fight a losing battle against - life. I felt ridiculous and weak and overwhelmed."

"Oh, Kate." Something like understanding, maybe, in his voice. Something close. Or at least acceptance now.

"If you'd been there, in front of me every day, Castle-" She shook her head, knowing she was doing a bad job of it. "It would only remind me of everything I couldn't - couldn't be or do or manage. All my limitations. And I'm sorry. Because you deserved better from me and I just couldn't - couldn't give you _anything_." Let alone the everything she'd promised.

"Does your father still need that tree?" he scraped out. His voice sounded rough.

"What?"

"Does he need that tree or can he see you now?"

"It's me now," she admitted. "The tree is just - a symbol. Family's the real thing."

"And you?" he asked. She saw that he was looking at her. Eyes on her, searching out her every secret thing. "What about you, Kate? Still need the tree?"

"I'm doing better," she confessed. "The tree's keeping me upright still, but I can step away. I can venture out. Easier like this." Like tonight. Laughing with him again, working together, side by side.

He nodded, but he didn't say anything more. She sucked in a deep breath.

"I called my Dad before I went and picked you up. I wanted to ask him if it was all right for me to share his story with you. Know what he told me?"

"What?"

"He told me that it was part of my story too." She reached out and touched his shoulder, alight with the ease of it, how she could do this now. She pressed her fingers to that soft, vulnerable spot behind his jaw, where it hinged. "He reminded me that I've been - caught in myself, Castle. I've been turned in, thinking of all of this as my story. My story. I got shot. I had to recover. I have to be better, more. Me. But it's part of your story too."

His mouth opened, but for once no words came out.

She sighed. "Castle, you're more than some minor role in a movie I star in. You're more than just a foil or a red shirt character-"

"It's so hot that you're throwing out Star Trek-"

"Hush," she laughed, the tension cracking like ice. She brushed her fingers over his mouth. "I'm trying to tell you something."

"You're telling me I'm not expendable. Got it."

"You're _not._" She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him for ruining it, but it wasn't really ruined. "You're not expendable. You're not the court jester, Castle, no matter how funny you think you are." She smiled to ease the words, cupped the side of his face because tenderness was welling up in her, making her want him, making her soft. "You're not a sidekick. You're my partner, and this is your story too. And for a little while - for too long - I forgot that."

"It's okay. We're here now."

"It's not okay," she insisted. "It's not _anything_, Castle. It's supposed to be _everything. _That's what you deserve. Don't take less from me."

He closed his mouth but he nodded his head, eyes intent on hers. She brushed her thumb over his cheek and leaned in, dusting a kiss over his mouth, asking him to find confidence in her again, asking him to trust.

Once more. Just one more time. And she promised she wouldn't break it. Him. She wouldn't break him.

She could be careful with his heart, this time around. She could treasure it - this unique, familiar thing.

His breath faltered against her cheek, his fingers stroking through her hair to grip her as if she might disappear. He made a sound in his throat like a growl, and then he was kissing her, claiming, confident. His touch was fire and her blood rushed with it, pushed into him for more.

But he broke away, forehead pressed to hers, and he spoke his heart against her lips.

"I love you, Kate."

And this time she could do more than just die.

She could live again.


	7. Unvanquished

**Unvanquished**

* * *

"What have I done?" he whispered. His thumb played over her eyebrow, his head propped up on his elbow as he laid beside her in front of the fire. The bear rug was so soft and she was finally warm after being cold to the bone all day inside these drafty, stone rooms of their _kremlin_.

"We did it together," she answered finally. She was so tired of reassuring him, so tired of having to pretend she wasn't exhausted, she wasn't dizzy, she wasn't having trouble breathing.

"I did this to you. Twice."

"Stop," she sighed. "Just stop, Rick. I can't listen to this tonight. It's too much effort to combat the lies you're telling yourself. I don't have it in me."

It was the wrong thing to say, but she craved nothingness so desperately that the ensuing silence after her confession felt - for a moment - completely worth it.

Her eyes were closed as she stayed curled on her side before fire; she was four months pregnant and already it was decimating her days, laying waste to her nights. Whole swathes of weeks were gone to a lingering, ever-present, weighted morning sickness.

At least, that was what she called it, as a joke. Morning sickness. Her body's continued cracking under pressure.

Her joy was her sorrow. And - to her regret - his as well.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes still closed, her voice barely rising over the crack of wood in the fire. "I'm tired. I want my husband."

She felt his arms wrapping around her first, and then it seemed as if his whole body was a strong forcefield, a shield. She sighed and raised her hand to curl at his arm, hanging on, even as he shifted her head under his shoulder.

"You have him. I'm here."

She hummed her gratitude and felt herself dropping slowly into the darkness of another Russian night.

* * *

His heart was still pounding madly as he pushed open their bedroom door. He'd already seen the doctor out to his car, paid the man generously for coming out to the kremlin at short notice this early in the morning, but even with the old man's beaming, pantomimed reassurances, Castle couldn't keep his hands from shaking.

He brought in the stew the cook had made, found his feet dragging as he moved inside their bedroom. His heart was heavy, and dull, and he was trying to rally for her. Trying.

He was afraid he was going to get her killed. Again. _Again_. He didn't think he could survive it.

Katya, hovering by her bedside, clucked at Kate, said something in Russian that his wife chose not to translate for him. He figured that meant she was getting a talking-to from their cook for moving around too much, for the scare she'd given them early this morning.

"What's bedrest in Russian?" he asked, settling the tray of stew near the bed. He was trying. "Like, if you translated it back, what would it be?"

"Confinement," she sighed. He'd been expecting a growl, but she was actually scarily subdued. Her eyes bored into his. "Imprisonment. Gulag."

"You're making that up," he said rasped. He couldn't help the way his words fell flat, felt twisted up somewhere near his heart. She was attempting to joke with him, but it just wasn't funny. This wasn't funny.

She glanced up from the bed and the weariness on her face lifted for just a moment, gave forth a shift towards a smile. "Yeah. I'm making it up. Just means 'stay in bed.' For however long the doctor tells me."

Katya, the woman Castle had been forced to hire from town, gave Castle an _I'm going_ gesture and began to leave the room. He called out his thanks after her, and she shut the door on them.

Alone. His throat was so thick with grief he could barely swallow. He was exposing her at every turn, making Kate vulnerable when all he wanted to do was have her be okay again. Not that Katya would give them away to the authorities, not like the NYPD knew to look for her here in Russia, but he hated having another person in on their secret - however limited.

Even before the doctor had confirmed Kate was pregnant, they'd needed the extra pair of hands. Castle had tried to keep up with things alone - as he'd always done when it was just him and Alexis - but the kremlin was too big and the rooms too drafty and Kate needed him.

"Stop looking at me like that," she murmured. He glanced down and brushed his fingers over her shoulder. "Seriously, Castle. You're driving me crazy and I can't even run away from you. I'm stuck here."

He wanted to laugh but it was just too true; it caught in his chest. Instead, he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, going slowly, trying not to jostle her. This was his fault - he'd gotten her pregnant and he'd been the one to poison her - to _kill_ her - and then resurrect her so poorly she was even now still damaged.

"Stop," she hissed, twisting his ear with her fingers. "Enough of this."

He yelped and jerked away, rubbing his ear and narrowing his eyes at her. She hadn't gotten riled up in months, and even though that had _hurt_ there was a layer of justification he couldn't slough off - both because he was being morose and also because he'd done this to her.

He deserved it.

"Castle. So help me, if you don't _stop_, I'm going to banish you from my sight for the rest of this pregnancy. You won't even get to _look_ at me, let alone mope every time you do."

He straightened up. "All right." He deserved that too. He couldn't help the way his thoughts spiraled down, even as he tried - he really tried - to make it light again, to be his usual, goofy self. How could he pull off goofy when he'd _done_ this to her?

She covered her eyes with both hands, shoulders hunching, and he realized he was still doing it. He had a sudden panicky thought that she might be crying.

"Okay," he got out, growling past that panic. "Okay. Kate. Please. Please don't."

She flattened her palm out over her eyes, and he slid an arm across her shoulders, tried to press his _forgive me_ into her body. She finally lifted her head, dropping her hand to her lap and pressing it over her stomach. He flinched.

"Castle. I'm not going to make it through this unless you - unless you figure out a way to be the man I need."

He jerked back, burned by those words, chest tightening. "I can - I will be. I'll be anything you need, Kate."

She chewed on her lower lip, lifted her hand to his cheek, softly touching him. "You used to be laughter for me, and light - can you see how much I needed that? How just _laughing_ had always been hard for me? Until you. But ever since I was arrested, Castle, you haven't laughed."

Castle swallowed and caught her hand, pressing it harder against his cheek. "I - I know. But I - we-"

"No. I need that now. I need to laugh. I need to - I need to not think about how I pushed myself too hard and hurt the baby-"

"No. No, Kate," he whispered, pushing a kiss to her palm. "The baby is fine. The doctor said the baby is just fine, didn't he? You stay in bed and it'll stay that way. You can do this."

Her face softened from its agonized lines, settled into something else. "_We_ can do this. If you fall, Rick, I fall with you."

"I won't fall. I'll stop falling. I promise, Kate. I can - I can get past this." Could he? He didn't know. How was he supposed to get over killing her?

"Can you - can you at least pretend to be happy about it?" she sighed. "We talked about kids. Before. I thought you'd want it-"

"I do," he growled, gripping her hand and tugging it against his chest. "I do want kids with you. Kate. Nothing would be - I just - I wanted you to have the strength for it first."

"I have the strength," she said firmly. Her fingers flexed under his hand, slipped between the buttons on his dress shirt. "I have it, Castle."

"But you're - I did this to you," he murmured. "I'm - it's difficult to find the joy in this when it could kill you. When I could kill you _again._"

"It won't kill me. You're being a little melodramatic," she said bitterly, turning her head form him. "I'm sometimes breathless, yes. I'm going to have to adjust my expectations - and so are you - but this won't _kill _me. Can't you just - be happy?"

"I'm... I am. Happy."

Her nostrils flared; she jerked her hand away from him and folded her arms across her chest. "That doesn't sound very convincing, Castle. You're a writer. You have better words than that."

He grunted and scrubbed his hand down his face. He couldn't - truly couldn't - see past her - Kate. She was barely able to _walk _half the time; she was winded going up a flight of stairs. And just this morning, he'd had to run for her inhaler when she'd collapsed in the hall bathroom - _even while she was bleeding_. The baby just - hadn't yet become real to him, despite the ultrasounds, despite them being four and a half months into this.

"I'm... worried about you, Kate. I just - I can't - live if you don't. You said it already. You fall, I fall. When you went down in the hallway, bleeding... I lost it. Lost whatever..."

"I can do this - there's no way you're going to lose me, okay? Baby just wanted me to sit down. Scout knew I was pushing it too much, knew what was better for me, and Scout was making his or her needs known."

His heart skipped.

"Scout?" he rasped. "You named her? Him?"

Kate ducked her head and her smile transformed her whole body, serene and beautiful, even if she didn't seem willing to share it with him. The smile was internal, directed towards their baby.

Shit, their _baby._

She pressed a hand to her stomach. "When the doctor did the ultrasound, to check that everything was okay, he asked if I wanted to know. In Russian of course. I think I was crying too much to remember to translate for you. But I said no - a surprise. I just... Scout seemed good for either. It's not a name, just... something to call it."

"Scout," he repeated numbly, staring at her. His eyes dropped to the belly that had been pushing its way into his vision for the last eighteen weeks, now no longer able to be denied. Kate was so terribly thin after being imprisoned that not even pregnancy could round her out - except her belly, except this right here.

Cautiously, reverently, he laid his hand over the baby, his own heart fluttering. There'd been no movement that she could discern, and nothing yet that he could feel from the outside, and it just hadn't been real. But somehow, right this moment, he _felt_ the baby there. Scout. A person, an identity. Part of their family.

"There you go," she whispered. "Better, Rick. Much more convincing."

He lifted his eyes to hers, overwhelmed. He did this. He did this. It was his responsibility. His joy to share in.

"And you didn't even need my fancy words," he said thickly.

Scout.

It was real now.

* * *

Castle waited until she was truly asleep, her hair dusting the pillow in amber light, before he finally began to undo the damage. At least some. He could undo some.

Her body might still be weak because of him, but he could rebuild her spirit.

For her. For Scout. She'd had this private little world that was just her and the baby, and he'd been agonizing out here alone, missing out on what was his. If only he could get past his guilt and claim it.

Castle shut the bedroom door after himself and tried to keep his steps light in the hallway. Katya was at the bottom of the stairs and he gave her an a-okay sign, wishing he hadn't been so adamant about not learning the language. He'd done it because - at one point - he'd known that it didn't do any good to save her life without that life being worth anything.

So he'd depended on her to translate everything for him, kept himself in the dark so that he'd need her, so that she'd feel the need.

He'd been thinking _then_; he could put some thought into her now.

Katya gestured something he couldn't decipher, tried a few words in what passed for English between them. He understood that she was going to leave, and he nodded, shooed her away.

He had things to do.

Castle pulled on his coat from the front hall closet, wrapped his scarf around his neck. He found gloves and flexed his fingers into them, bent over to tug thick, rubbery snow boots on over his own shoes.

He headed for the back door even as Katya's car left the front drive, her ancient vehicle rattling down to the main road. He flipped his coat collar up against the wind and stepped out into the snow, his boots crunching.

The backyard - if something so grand and sweeping could be called a term as mundane as _yard_ - stretched on for acres of forested tree. Conifers, all of them, and resplendently green in the pale December light. The blue Caucasus Mountains angled in the horizon and Castle took an expectant breath.

They were having a baby. She was calling it Scout - talking to it and about it and it could be a girl, a boy - it was his child.

Near the back door was the hatchet he'd used all winter to chop wood for that never-ending beast of a fireplace she loved so much, and so he reached over to ease it into his hand. The heft was familiar and comforting, and he had a job to do.

He trudged off into the line of trees, searching for one just the right height.

* * *

Kate was dragged to awareness slowly, sensation returning like lights coming on room by room.

Tired. She was so tired. It made breathing an endeavor. She had to remember to drag in the next breath, let the last one out again. She could drift right back into sleep but for whatever it was that had pulled her up.

Warm, soft. It was the middle of a bitterly cold December and it'd been months since she'd woken up without her fingers or toes numb, even with a fire in the fireplace in front of her. The doctor who had diagnosed her 'lung paralysis' had said that her extremities weren't getting the blood they needed, that the pregnancy, of course, made it worse. So the warmth surrounding her and the heat that flooded her was pure, rare bliss. It kept her eyes closed, luxuriating in the sensation.

Curled on her side, Kate faintly realized that words were coming to her, slipping in under the cracks in her exhaustion, making themselves known like solar flares in the darkness.

She parted her lashes, barely able to muster the energy even for that, and saw that Castle was curled in front of her. His body was bowed to hers, his head at her chest, his knees touching hers. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his lips against her, feel the murmur of all he said.

She blinked and watched him, her breathing slow and laboring through the effort. Sleeping for too long seemed to make the whole thing worse, as if her body became drugged by the inactivity and couldn't rouse. As if the poison had gone dormant in her system like a darkness and wanted to claim her, seeping into every muscle and fiber of her body.

But Castle was here, holding on to her, speaking over her, flooding her with his nearness. His hand formed to her waist, thumb brushing under her shirt. She didn't move, didn't want to break the spell.

And then his words came to her.

"We got a deal, Scout? You don't ask too much from your mom, you let her stay strong. All right?"

Kate swallowed and shifted her hand to the top of his head. "You two plotting behind my back?"

Castle lifted up to look at her, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Yeah. We hatched a plot. Me and Scout. We have a deal."

"Scout," she smiled. Her eyes were heavy; she was going to fall asleep again.

"Yeah. Scout and I are going to take care of you."

"Take care of me."

He crawled up to lay down alongside her, his mouth brushing against her temple and down to her cheek. "I'm going to do this right, Kate. For you, and for Scout. I can do this. See? Look."

She pushed her hand up between them and tangled her fingers in his, but her eyes were slow to look. When she did finally shift her vision away from him, she laughed and struggled to sit up, staring at the room around them.

"You... made me Christmas."

He'd set up a three-foot live tree just at the foot of their bed, decorated it with strung popcorn - she realized now she'd been smelling it all along - and dried fruit plus what had to be glitter. He'd found little lights as well - candles, she saw - and set them up in their protective frosted globes around the room.

"Did you - is that glitter on pinecones?"

"A project I remembered doing with Alexis when she was five or six. Dip the pieces in glue and then roll them in glitter."

"We _have_ glitter?"

He gave her a grave look. "Not any more."

She laughed again, battling against the weakness in her lungs to get a deeper breath, her hand over her mouth as she took in the room. The candles glowed, the tree was - oh, kind of adorable, and silly, and Castle - and he'd even hung two of his thick red wool socks from the mantle.

She pressed her lips together. "If my presents from Santa smell like your feet, I'm gonna be mad."

He gave her a deep smile for that, shifted so that his chest was at her back, giving her support. She battled for breath but she could rest against him and that made it easier.

Castle's hand came over her stomach, fingers drawing circles around her belly button. "I should have - we should have gotten a tree weeks ago, decorated together - like a family. But since you're stuck in bed, I thought I could at least bring a tree up here to you. But when you're not tired, I'll carry you downstairs and we'll decorate the big one I found."

He still had that haunted look at the back of his eyes, but she finally heard joy in his voice - the same joy she felt fluttering around inside her - cautious and frightening, but growing ever more hopeful.

"Thank you," she murmured. "It's - beautiful."

"Scout likes it too," he said confidently.

She laughed then, that last icy knot beginning to melt. She hooked her fingers in his and brought them up to her lips, kissed his knuckles.

He seemed to know that now she didn't have the words.

Whatever else was layered between them, whatever guilt and sorrow, she believed that it could be overcome; they were unvanquished still.

* * *

_Schastlivogo Rozhdestva_


	8. Convection - Chapter One

**Convection**

* * *

"When two systems [Beckett and Castle] are sitting in equilibrium with a third system [their relationship], they are also in thermal equilibrium with each other [not going anywhere]."

-Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics (adapted)

****SPOILERS for Heat Rises and Frozen Heat****

* * *

"Not yet, Castle." But Kate Beckett is smiling at him - even as he's sitting on her feet on the couch - and she wriggles her toes under him in warning.

"Hurry up, then," he complains. "I'm bored." But he gets the dual nature of that statement; his answering smile is true, if faded after all these months. _Not yet, Castle. _Telling him without telling him that she's here, she's in this with him as much as he is. Understood.

"I want to finish this section," she says, tenderness lacing together her words. She goes back to his laptop which he brought with him to her apartment, and he subsists on watching her as she reads his scenes.

He's never done this before. And that statement has a dual nature as well. He's never waited for someone before, and also, he's never let someone read the chapters of a novel as they've come, completely unedited and without strong bones.

But here they are.

She has her bottom lip drawn between her teeth as she reads what his publisher has already titled Frozen Heat (_you can work it into the plot, Ricky)_, and his knees are bouncing as he waits for her, irritated with himself at how much it means to have her unadulterated response to some admittedly pedantic prose.

Because if Heat Rises was a plea for her to just open her eyes to what stood waiting, if that novel was designed to build castles around her in every meaning, then Frozen Heat has become the pilgrim's journey, the love letter, the way he paints her with the honesty of what he sees possible in them. _See, Kate? I know you; I know the heart of you, and we can be so good._

He's never done this before. _Tried_ so very much.

She devours the text on his laptop in the relative solitude of her apartment, one hand up as her fingers play with the ends of her hair, painting the tips over the corner of her mouth, again and again, hypnotic.

He will bring her scenes upon scenes if he gets to study her like this. If he can sit here and be at peace with her, the two of them orbiting bodies with gravities in steady equilibrium, their push and pull in harmony, then he can be content with waiting.

He can be content with _Not yet, Castle._

* * *

They have their rhythms.

Through figurative language, Castle reminds himself what it is they have and where it is they are going. _Nikki walked into his embrace... the vision resonated... nothing less than a miracle... 'Protecting you,' came his muffled voice..._

He writes it out, every intimate aspect of Nikki is transliterated from Kate Beckett, and what she doesn't know, he tells himself he does, and so he gives it back to her in the form of a novel. Nikki's gratefulness that Rook survived taking a bullet is nothing less than Castle's own reversed, and when it comes time for the anger and the secrets, he knows those emotions as well.

Through tropes of the genre, he gives them both the soothing touch, a hush to their stirring senses, a whisper in their ears, a kind of lullaby back into the dream of them.

He invents metaphors that will _make_ him accept the status quo; he is waiting and he can be a patient man. He'll lay his heart out in words but be silent in person. This will have to suffice.

He's never done it before, but he is certain he can for her.

He falls back, he waits, he lets them rest in stasis.

He imbues Nikki and Rook with all the natural frustrations and hopes that mirror their real-life counterparts, and then he gives it over to Kate to read. At least then she will know. The written word holds truth as sharp as a sword, able to cleave to the heart, excise the scar tissue and get to the root of a thing.

He wants what comes next with them to be free and clear of the muddled confusion, he wants _them_ to rise above it, and so he writes.

He writes. He writes.

* * *

"Will you write over here?" she asks.

He presses the phone to his ear and slowly closes the lid of his laptop, glances at the clock. "Okay," he says, confused. "It's late."

"Yeah, but you could... write Nikki here. For a little while."

"Of course," he agrees. After the sniper terrorizing them this week, he expected her to shut down, wall herself off, crawl into the safety of isolation to lick her wounds. "Did you... have a good talk with Esposito?"

"Yes," she answers. At least there is that. At least she's honest with him about it. "It helped. I'm frustrated about my - I'm frustrated. But."

She doesn't finish and so Castle starts sliding his laptop into his carrying case, hurrying. He sent Esposito after her, prompted the former soldier to get through to her, and he was so _proud_ of her when she stepped up, when she shined. They caught their sniper and she peeled her armor off, baring her vulnerable heart to do it.

She doesn't need to say the words; he can see it in everything she does. Every time she triumphs, it is one step closer to where they both want to be. More. Her hands were shaking when she went back to the 12th, she didn't draw her gun in time - sure - but she figured it out, she made it work.

He thinks she has a therapist. He's not sure, but she's hinted - conversations half-spoken and a dropped line here and there. She's talking to someone, there are issues, but she's working on it and that gives him hope.

"Are you coming over?" she breathes.

"Yes, of course, yes." He hastens to reassure her and can't believe he even has to do that. He packs his bag and loops it over his shoulder, already searching for his shoes.

"Message me when you get here. I'll let you in," she says.

"Okay," he says, bewildered by the late night summons, too ridiculously grateful for it after this case to ask for more. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

Or less. Probably less.

* * *

It's not poetry, but maybe poetry would be lost on her. He thinks he has to be rather clear.

She waits for him to finish writing - he's never written a book this fast before, never gone at this pace; he's usually the one procrastinating, balancing pencils above his lip like a mustache and ignoring his screensaver's demands that he ought to be writing.

To be honest, the bank heist and explosion, the trip to Atlantic City with the boys, and now the sniper - he's fallen behind. So when he shows up at her apartment, he has maybe two scenes she's not read, and he's ashamed of the meager offering.

"Did you want to talk?" he asks, hoping.

"What is there to talk about?"

Oh, everything. Everything. He shifts into her apartment and opens the flap on his laptop carrier, carefully, everything held in check. "Right. Of course. Difficult case, though."

"At least it's over," she replies, already closing down on him.

"Yes, over." He's noticed now that her arm is bandaged, the wrist, and he lifts his eyes to her face, but she carefully ignores that.

"Couch okay? Or do you write at a desk?"

"Couch is fine," he sighs, sliding his laptop out of the protective sleeve and tucking it under his arm. He gestures for her to go ahead of him. "I don't have much for you to read. And I honestly don't know how much I'll produce."

"I don't have to read it tonight," she says, shaking her head as he sets up on her couch. "Just write."

He can't help being distracted by her tonight, the strange curl and snaggle of her hair in those waves around her face, the addition of a white strip of gauze around her wrist, the determination in her eyes that battles back everything else.

Fear, need, desperation, joy. He can't help looking, studying, needing to know.

"Eyes to yourself," she mumbles at him, nudging his thigh as she grabs a book. She has a glass of water on the coffee table; she's already eaten dinner. It's nearly eleven and he doesn't quite know what he's doing here.

Maybe she wanted his company and she didn't know how to ask. Maybe this is Beckett asking.

He wants to kiss her but he hasn't kissed her since that night of breakfast for dinner after she read his third Nikki Heat novel and apologized for breaking him. He wants to reach out and take one of those curling strands of her hair and straighten it. He wants a great many things he can't have and so he puts his fingers on the keyboard and he writes.

He writes _Spit it out, Rook. Are you saying I'm inaccessible?_

And then their conversation escalates and the irony of it reeks on the page and having it done, having it over, giving voice to the wall between them makes it easier now to stop and turn to her, give her the space she deems necessary.

"Bathroom break. You got anything to snack on? I need to keep my energy up." He gives her the eyebrow wriggle as well and she smiles, that closed-mouth tender one that says everything - oh, everything - and he's soft and melting for her all over again.

"I'll find you something," she says. A hand comes out and curls in the collar of his shirt, open at the neck, and she tugs him just a little. If he didn't know better, he would think it's the prelude to a kiss.

He stands and waits for her to decamp to the kitchen, and then he walks through to her only bathroom, shuts himself inside. Her things line the counter in a neat, precise arrangement: toothpaste beside the strange brass holder, the soap in a pump fashioned like a block of squares, a well-used lotion and a bottle of advil to the other side.

He recalls her gift this summer - the gift of a memory they don't share. The first time she met him after waiting in line for his autograph. He inscribed to her _'Don't stop looking for the truth.'_ It's what he said to all of them; it was a line his publicist came up with to tie into the plot of Storm Season_. _

She wrote it on an index card and put it up on her bathroom mirror, she told him, and there it stayed for a long time. _I was terribly young, Castle._

He has a lot of things he wants to say to her that she won't or can't allow. He's accidentally let it spill over a few times, burdening her with his confession, but he doesn't want to turn it into a thing, a point of contention, another place where they are unequal.

He needs an index card.

* * *

When he goes home, she doesn't comment. She might have seen the note he left her, but perhaps not.

He rides the subway back at one in the morning and wishes she'd told him about what happened to her wrist, wishes he had asked more pointedly, wishes the words didn't clog his throat. He'll have to find a way to allow Rook to protect Nikki, in his fumbling and eager and inept yet strangely adroit way, and that will soothe tonight.

The writing will take care of him for now.

As he steps off the platform and into the too-early quiet, the stillness and the aloneness strike him as they might strike Nikki. _Stupid move, Nik, going it alone again._ If she were somehow hampered, if she were not quite on top of the situation, she might be more cautious, she might see how there are people out to get her and she shouldn't be walking the streets alone in the darkness.

He's so engaged in the world of Detective Heat, he doesn't notice the walk back alone, the cold November air, the decorations that have come up for Christmas already. He's plotting scenes and itching to write, phrases running through his head over and over so he won't forget them.

He's reminded of the superhero case, the cop who was exacting her own form of vigilante justice, and how similar the two narratives are. Lone Vengeance and Nikki Heat - and what separates the two women but the cold light of morning? His favorite metaphor is the sword - in any of its forms. The master blacksmith fashions the strongest blade through a grueling process that requires time and work, but also heat and relief.

He sees now that their cases together during the day have taken on the rhythm of the forge, and its beat is echoed in their off-hours at night. The work is ceaseless but careful, unending but endured - creating the perfectly balanced blade.

Of course, with every baptism by flames, there is a need for bathing by water. The times of bank heists and snipers are cooled and shaped by the nights he spends writing in her apartment or the shared pizza at his loft or a conversation about his daughter.

The sword is called out of steel slowly, alternating methods, working the blade stronger and more accurate, finer and more poised with these long periods of fire and ice.

The constant in and out, up and down, lends the waiting its weight and its worth as well. A sheet of glass surrounds it, crystal caves to permanently house the waiting blade, the sword in the stone.

They'll take it out together.

And no, he doesn't mean for the metaphor to run away with him, to turn towards the crude, the flesh, but it does.

Sheath your sword, he mutters to himself, and he rubs his hand down his face, now alone in his study, gets up to take another cold shower.

And then to write another scene for Nikki.

* * *

"Castle," she laughs. "No ex is safe with you."

He pours the red wine into two of her stemware, heads cautiously into her living room to hand one over. She sips but she's still watching him.

When he emailed her the last few chapters of the novel, he wasn't sure what he'd do with them, how it would feel for her to read him painting Rook in such forgiving strokes, as such a big-hearted, easy-going man to such a closed-down, contained woman.

Kate doesn't seem to get it though.

"No ex is safe?" he queries. Handcuffs are one thing, tigers another, but conversations about ex-boyfriends doesn't seem safe to him.

"You just _killed_ him," she says, shaking her head. "Nikki's ex. And it's both horrifying but also funny, and I'm not sure what that says about either of us."

"Just wait," he mutters. He's already outlined the last of the novel, and he knows what happens to her _other_ ex and Kate might not be laughing by then.

"No spoilers," she chides, taking another sip of her wine. "It's intense. I'm enjoying my sneak peek, my behind the scenes access. Keep it coming."

"Good," he says easily. He's become uncomfortable with the constant feedback, and yet he's also obsessed with it, craves it. What does she think now, what will she say to that scene, how will this go over? "You at a place to stop? I picked us up some Chinese."

She nods and drops her feet to the floor, holds out her empty hand for him to take. He helps her rise from the office chair and she floats right past him for the kitchen, murmuring something about it smelling delicious.

She's still avoided every single conversation about Christmas. Ten days away, and it's like the holiday doesn't exist. She starts opening cartons and dipping her nose in close to inhale his selections, smiling, her world untroubled. Probably because they just narrowly avoided becoming tiger kibble - makes everything else seem ridiculously easy in comparison.

Castle can't help glancing back at the open email on her desktop computer, his hopeful and condemning words, his need for explanation.

He's said nothing because she carefully closes herself off to more, but he gets out what he needs to say on the page. Where she's helpless to it, where he can prove what he means in as many words as it takes - though even through Nikki and Rook it is frustrated and thwarted.

He never thought waiting would be easy, but he didn't expect it to be as complicated as this.

He just doesn't want her to be alone on Christmas.


	9. Convection - Final Chapter

**Convection**

* * *

He writes the end when he should be writing the middle.

He writes the end when he should be doing the last of his Christmas shopping and figuring out a way to pacify his daughter's contempt for the whole elaborate Beckett... dance.

He's ensconced in his loft, laptop too warm against his thighs, knees beginning to ache from his feet propped up on the desk, but he can't stop.

When he said good-bye to her tonight outside the 12th, everything in her body language screamed _not yet, Castle, I said not yet._

And while the first twenty times it felt like hope, now it feels like backpedaling.

He went home alone and he won't show up at her apartment this weekend unasked for; he'll immerse himself in the story because this is how he shows her, this is how he makes it clear.

The plot lines for this book have been muddied by the process. Never before has he written for someone else to read in real time, never before has he hoped so wildly for so little, using the scenes to further his own life rather than using his life to further the scenes.

And so he keeps writing things that should and will never make it into the finished product. He writes conversations he wants Rook and Nikki to have; he creates plot twists for a murder mystery he doesn't even know the answer to just so he can shove Nikki into a more honest encounter with her own nature. He writes around himself, around the structure, and he'll have to piece it together next summer when his editor demands coherence.

Tonight he writes the ending.

_The issue will have to be confronted at some point if Rook needs more intimacy than you are willing to give. It may turn him away. Not now, but someday, that reckoning will come. And you will let him in, or not. You will be vulnerable with him, or not. And you will experience the consequences, based on your choice. I hope the choice you make fulfills you._

He writes the ending and it feels final, a way to close it down should this be the end of everything. Nikki is still and silent in the eye of a storm, and while he teases the hope of another chapter, another chapter won't come.

Just Nikki. Alone. As she always is.

And Castle knows he writes his true heart here.

It's too telling; it reveals too much. He's given her a prophetic warning, and he's not sure she'll even know.

He doesn't know what comes next. Not this time.

But it's almost Christmas and he has to let her know what he wants from her this year.

_Nikki traced her mother's life story into her own... caution, secretiveness, isolation. These could be her never-ending story, if she allowed it. The shrink had cautioned her to accept that her mother was dead, but Nikki knew that her mother's story would live on through her and that her mother still resided in her heart, as she always would._

_Still, Nikki sought the beginning of a story._

Castle wanted to close this story and begin another.

* * *

"Is it too much?" he asks her. She's withdrawn. Not just in her body language - the way her knees have been pulled up into the couch, the hunch of her shoulders - but she's stopped giving him those smiles when she finds an inside joke, stopped meeting his eyes with hers.

"Too much?" She turns that over like it's an unknown phrase. "The stuff about Nikki's mom." For clarification, it's not all that elucidating. But he'll let it be about Nikki's mom, sure.

"I don't want her story to be your story, Kate." He makes fists of his hands to keep from reaching out and dragging her feet down the couch, back into his lap even though that hurts him as much as it reassures. Having her so close and yet so far.

"To protect me, you mean," she adds, eyes narrowing. But she rubs at her sternum with two fingers, almost like she doesn't even know she's doing it. The bullet scar he has yet to see. "The other shoe has yet to drop."

"Exactly," he sighs. "But the moment you want to go public with the hunt for your sniper - no matter what Gates says - I can be depended upon to amass the largest press conference you've ever seen."

"You know a guy?" she quirks. But it's not as effortless as it should be.

"I do," he confirms. He waits; she's reading on his laptop again tonight, but she holds it awkwardly, not cradling it against her like she usually does. "Until then, Kate, Nikki's mother is the spy who knew too much."

She does smile at that, a lighter thing that lifts her lips and twists them at the end. But she puts the chapter away from her - closing the laptop and shifting it to the coffee table. Her body comes into his before he realizes that's her intent, and he's caught with his arm trapped against his side before he can untangle it from between them and wrap it around her shoulders.

Does she even know what she's read?

She lays her head at his ball and socket joint, her lashes briefly closing before he strokes a tentative finger along the harsh angle of her elbow.

"That felt like the end," she says hesitantly.

"It is."

"I don't even know what _happens_ yet. Did you write the end in the middle of things?"

"Yeah," he admits.

"Why?"

"Too much to say," he shrugs. He wants to feel better about this than he does. He wants her to confess and to reassure him - and he'll even take _not yet. _"You done reading it?"

"A pause," she murmurs. "Need a moment."

"Oh." Maybe she _does_ read into it what he wants to say to her. Maybe she sees too much. Or maybe what's affected Kate tonight is just Nikki reconnecting with her mother, finding the beginning of her mother's story rather than getting sunk into the never-ending story - the case that never resolves, the lack of closure.

"Just too much today," she admits. "The reminder that Nikki and I share - a story in common."

"A mother's murder," he sighs. The never-ending story. But there will be an end - that's what he's trying to say. That's what he wants her so badly to understand. The end comes for you whether you want it or not. The reckoning.

She stirs, pushing back from his arms. "I like that Nikki's mom is a spy; makes her exotic. Feels like her life means more, you know?"

"Yes."

"My mom's life meant..."

"Everything to you," he finishes. "And her legacy... I know, Kate."

"I know you do," she agrees, a nod of her head, the swallow of her throat. "But her legacy? I don't know. Is that the legacy she would have wanted? The never-ending story."

He can't answer that for her, though he knows his whole novel is an attempt to do that - to give her answers she can't seem to find.

_Not yet, Castle_.

She shifts forward on the couch, reaches for the remote to her television, putting some distance between them. "Let's watch Hitchcock movies and order pizza. Get out of the story for a while."

He takes a breath in the beat of silence to give himself the courage. And then he plunges into it. "Yes to the movies, no to pizza. I have a better idea."

"Yeah?" she says hesitantly. They don't go out. They don't _date_ because they're not together, no matter how many times she might lift up onto her toes and present him with a kiss, no matter how often he sighs his love into the top of her hair and she smiles for it without an answer.

He persists, as he always does. "I'll make us something. We'll do it a little differently tonight."

"Make us something," she draws out. She's giving him a look that spells knowledge, a message received. Her fingers come to rest lightly on his knee. "Or."

"Or?" Is there another way?

Her eyes dart back to the laptop as if for confidence, and then they find his again. "Or. We can make it together."

He stays still on the couch and wonders if figurative language will be their only language. And if so, can he be content with that?

"All right," he gives. "Let's do it together, partner."

Her fingers curl at his knee and flatten out again, a press of heat and promise.

_Not yet, Castle._

Not yet, but he hopes for soon. Soon.

* * *

"You've stopped writing," she notes.

"Not entirely," he defends. "The rest of this is the boring part - figuring out the case details so that I can make it work. The research of it. And it's almost Christmas. Taking a break for the holidays."

"You'll still let me read it though, right? When you do start it again."

"Of course," he answers immediately. But lately, he just hasn't been sure. He's kept the words back because they're inadequate. It's just a mystery novel that's gotten in a little over its head, and nothing he says in the story actually makes a difference.

"Even when it's jumbled up like this," she says quietly. "I still love it."

It settles in his chest, that certainty, and he resolves to do better. Write better. But also to email her the little scraps he's pushed around lately, give them over to her.

"Castle, I'm not... you're still okay, right?"

Her fingers let go of his as they stand right outside the 12th Precinct. He spent the day with her because tomorrow is Christmas Eve and she's working through it. They did nothing at all holiday-related; she turns her head away from it.

He's still waiting.

"I'm okay," he answers. "Though I wish you'd come over."

Her face closes down, eyes drifting to one side as she tries to come up with a way to let him down gently. Again.

"I know, Kate," he sighs. "Not _would. _Just wish you _could_."

They're not standing in the direct line of sight from the front doors of the police station, but there are plenty of officers and detectives moving around them, in and out, people who know them both. Anyone could pull up in a squad car and say something innocuous to the wrong ear about the pair of them lingering on the steps.

But Kate lingers.

And he lets her.

She reaches out again for his hand and takes it back, her skin is still warm and slightly damp from their walk. He probably holds on to her too tightly; maybe she wishes he'd wipe his palm on his pants every once in a while.

"I'll miss you," she says suddenly.

She looks as surprised as he is to hear it come out of her mouth, and then she tilts her head to one side and smiles at him, like she can't help it and won't take it back now.

"You'll miss me?" he teases softly, stepping into her.

She doesn't step back. Her body actually cants into his a little, like a force of nature pushes them inexorably closer.

Her eyes are dark when she looks up at him. In a perfect world, the sky would sift light snow over them right now, flake by flake, the miracle of winter.

But it's only the miserable grey sky and the awkwardness of awareness.

"Castle," she says softly. She's calling for his attention, but like she ever needs to ask for it.

"That's me," he tries, smiling again because she's holding his hand outside the 12th and really, really, that's enough for him. It is. It can be.

"Castle, _soon_."

Soon. Not _not yet_ but soon. Soon.

He lifts his lips in a broader grin, the sureness of it digging into him deeply, more than promises, more than hope - certainty.

Her hand squeezes his once in confirmation, and then she's disappearing back through the doors of the 12th.

* * *

When Kate Beckett gets home from a thirteen hour shift, she can barely drag her coat off her shoulders. She leaves it on the floor as she kicks off her shoes, feels the agonizing pop of her feet against the wooden floor as she steps down.

She aches in so many places.

A bad takedown, a long five hours sitting at the desk and waiting for a call as her muscles stiffened up, the questionable help of one of the junior detectives who really ought not to have been promoted, and a final mind-numbing end to her day doing paperwork.

Castle is safely at home with his family, celebrating all the pomp and circumstance of Christmas, she has no doubt.

That helps, actually, knowing he's wrapped up in them, knowing he's taken care of tonight when she can't possibly. She can't.

Not this year.

_Soon_.

She meant it, but this isn't the year for it. If she has to admit it, she would say that reading his novel as he writes it feels more intimate than shedding her clothes and sliding into bed with him, and in some ways that's made her confident of them and in others it's made her question.

She feels his accusations and his promises in the scenes he gives her, and she's yet to figure out what it means for her - for them. Love doesn't come easily when it carries so much _else_ along with it - Christmas holidays and family expectations, the effort of being cracked open in such unattractive ways and the frustration of never getting a solitary moment to breathe, compromises and considerations, the necessity of having someone to be accountable to and the prospect of letting go.

She doesn't know what that looks like and she doesn't know how to figure it out for them either.

Christmas Eve and she's alone, the scar singing in the cold. She sheds her sweater and dress pants for pajamas, allows herself to press the heel of her hand into the knot of skin between her breasts, study her reflection in the mirror.

In sixteen days, her mother's death comes haunting her like the ghost of Christmas Past, but what Kate wants right now, what she craves, is to rub away the wounds and open her hand to Christmas Future.

She'll have to settle for _Present _and take the certainty of Castle's hand in hers earlier today as the answer to all her questions_._

Kate closes her eyes to the reflection in her room and heads instead for the bathroom and the heat of water, the long slide into the tub that will let her release it, let her forget.

When she steps up to the sink, her reflection is marred by a snow white index card, tape slanted crookedly at the top and affixing it to her mirror. She's had that card up for the last month, her eyes caressing every falter of his pen, every smooth line of his letters.

And even though she's been reading Castle's words for months now, she hadn't ever seen his words in his own hand. Not like this.

_Don't stop showing me, Kate. Show me until you have the words._

It eases her heart to read that he _knows._ He knows.

_Soon, Castle._

The words are becoming easier with every day.

She presses her fingers to her lips and then lifts them to his card, promising.


	10. This Is the Dreamworld

**This Is the Dreamworld**

* * *

Kate pokes her fingers through the carrying case and rubs the dog's nose, getting a lick of her nail for the effort.

"Hey, bud. Almost landed," she promises.

"If you'll stow away your possessions," the flight attendant interrupts, a touch to Kate's shoulder.

"Of course," she agrees. She settles the dog's cage carefully on the floor and nudges it under the seat in front of her. The flight attendant moves on and Kate leans down again, pushes her fingers through the cage door to scratch ineffectually at the poor Corgi. He's such a good dog; he only licks her fingers and hangs out, waiting for the end of the ride.

When the plane begins its descent, Kate sits back in the seat and folds her hands in her lap, more than ready.

"That's a cute dog," the elderly woman at her right says. "What's his name?"

Kate smiles and glances over. The older woman has given her the space and quiet Kate likes to have on a flight, so she can answer the woman's questions now that it's nearly over. "My daughter named him Sir Claude."

The woman chuckles, her smile growing. She has the permed hair and the wide glasses of the perfect grandmother stereotype, and she seems even more pleased that Kate has a daughter with such a specific, particular imagination.

"That's adorable. Sir Claude. How formal. Is he mannerly?"

"Not at all," Kate admits. "Though he never barks, which is a good thing for us. I fly a lot."

"With the dog?" the woman says. Her surprise holds no judgment, which is the only reason Kate keeps talking.

"Sir Claude and I are on this flight quite often. Between homes in New York and DC."

"Oh," the woman sighs. "You're divorced? I'm sorry. That must make it terribly hard. Especially at the holidays."

Kate squeezes her left hand into a fist, takes a breath to flatten it out. "No. Just - my husband and I have jobs in two different cities." It's been the only way they've found to explain to strangers what it is they actually have. "We're still together. Heading his way for the holidays now that I have time off. Our daughter is in kindergarten now, so she's in New York most of the year."

The woman's face has gone absolutely blank now. She doesn't understand - can't comprehend - and of course. Who does? They all think she and Castle are crazy, that it's irresponsible or even negligent. But her daughter has more than she needs, has both parents, and their family works like this.

"Well," the grandmotherly woman says. "At least you made it in before the bad weather hits. Right?"

The plane bumps as it lands, jostling them both, and the dog lets out a little whine from below. Kate leans over and pushes her fingers through the cage's holes, gives the poor thing a sniff of home to ease him.

At least they've made it home before the snow.

* * *

Kate draws a hand through her hair and checks the overhead signs, follows their directions towards baggage claim. She carries the dog in its cage close to her thigh, trying to keep from getting caught in the crowds. Her hair has grown too long - she just never has time - and it catches in the strap of her laptop case; she feels the irritation more than she should.

She manages to navigate the concourse and find the escalators, but she gets stuck in the middle of a group of tourists, chafing at the wait. Her phone vibrates and she checks the message, smiles to herself at his _we're here for you_.

_Here for you too, Rick, but are you picking me up or what?_

She steps off the escalator, still in the thick of a family heading for the same baggage claim as she is, but no other message comes back. She slides her phone into her coat pocket and buttons the flap to keep it there, shifts around the large woman in front of her.

"Mom!"

The little body hurtles into her before she can even register what or who, finds herself knocked backwards by her daughter.

"Oh, whoa, hey there." Kate rocks on her heels but leans over to grip the girl's shoulder in an awkward hug. She can't help but crouch over, completely blocking traffic, to envelop her daughter in her arms. "Maisie," she breathes. "My beautiful girl."

"Sir Claude, Sir Claude," she squeals, dropping to her knees on the crowded terminal floor, her cheek to the ground to peer inside the cage. "Were you so scared this time? I know Mom took good care of you. Didn't you, Mom?"

Kate combs her fingers through Maisie's hair and draws her in for a kiss. "I took care of your dog. I promise."

"Okay, enough, little bug," Castle calls. He picks her up and carries her, leans in to kiss Kate's cheek. He murmurs something for her ears only that she doesn't even catch, but she knows - all the same - what he means. _Later._

Kate stands with the carrier in her hand once more, pushes on Castle to get them out of the mob of people, where she can breathe and think.

"Can Sir Claude go free?" their daughter begs. "Free him, Mom."

"I will. Let me find my luggage first, then we'll put him on the leash."

"I've got the car service," Castle adds. "The driver is circling the airport and will pick us up down there." He nods towards the far exit doors and she winds her arm through his, lets him lead them both to her luggage carousel.

"Mom, did you have a good flight?" Maisie asks from her father's arms. "It's been raining here - no snow at all. And it's blustery."

"Blustery?" she laughs, giving Castle a look for that one.

"I thought your plane would get blown away," the girl sighs. "But you made it."

"Hey, I'm here," Kate says softly, leaning in to kiss Maisie's worried mouth. "I'm here and I have two weeks of Christmas with you guys. And Sir Claude."

"It will be like Christmas every day," Maisie says dramatically.

Christmas every day. "We should do that," Kate says softly. "Christmas every day. What do you say, Castle?"

"Sounds good."

Maisie gives them a clever look. "Does that mean I can open a present when we get home?"

* * *

Kate rubs her thumb over the envelope and puts it back inside her suitcase, zipping it up, keeping it safe for later. From beyond the bedroom, the sounds of her daughter and Sir Claude fill the living room and echo in the loft, but Castle comes back to look for her.

"What are you doing?" he says from the doorway.

She gathers the gifts she brought with her, straightens up. "Just getting these. Did you get the tree up?"

"Not yet. Maisie is pulling everything out of the boxes though. She's been sneaking into storage all week, taking out little things and putting them up around the loft."

"Decorating on the sly?" Kate laughs, walking with him down the hall towards the living room.

"I told her we were waiting for you." Castle shrugs at the look on her face - she told him at Thanksgiving he should go ahead without her. "Always gonna wait for you, Kate. That's how this works."

They enter the living room to find Maisie on the couch with Sir Claude, ornaments littering every available surface, garland tangled around the dog.

"Mom, what have you got?" Maisie says, perking up. Her dark hair has begun to curl around her face, like Kate's does in the summer humidity, and the girl hooks it behind her ears again. "Are those for me?"

"It's possible," Kate teases. "But we have no tree."

"Dad, I _told_ you." Maisie huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I told you that Mom wanted us to put it up."

"We'll put it up now, together," Castle insists. "Make space on the couch, Maze."

"Space for what?" she asks.

"Space for _Mom_," he tosses back at her. "I've got to pull the tree out of the box and it takes a while to get it all put together."

"Oh, oops," Maisie laughs. She pushes on the Corgi's hindquarters and he whines at her but jumps down, garland unspooling. "Here, Mom. Come sit with me and we can watch Dad do all the work."

Kate laughs with her and nudges Castle in the ribs. "Go do all the work, Dad."

"That's what I'm trying to say. You go sit down." He takes the wrapped gifts from her hands and places them on the coffee table, then he draws his hands to her hips and nudges her into him rather than away. His smile is deep, but it's also easy. There's nothing bittersweet on his face; he loves her and he loves their life.

And she adores him for that. "Hey, before I sit down like a lazy bum, let me make hot chocolate for all of us. We'll start our Christmas every day right now - tonight."

"Ooh, hot chocolate. Can I help?" Maisie pipes up, jumping off the couch and running for the kitchen. "We can put cinnamon in it like Gram does."

"Sure, little bug." Kate gives Castle one last look over her shoulder, winking at him as she goes. "Christmas for you, later," she promises, blowing him a kiss.

* * *

With their tree finally up and Maisie doing the decorating, Kate nestles back into Castle's arms, drawing her feet up onto the couch now that there's space. Sir Claude has fallen asleep on the other side, giving in to the Santa hat that Maisie ceremoniously put on his head; the thing has slipped down over one of the Corgi's eyes.

Kate chuckles and sips the mulled cider with rum that Castle poured out for them, lets the glass dangle from her fingers off the side of the couch. Castle squeezes her, his fingers trailing up and down her ribs, tickling under her shirt to catch her bare skin. She turns her head and kisses the inside of his elbow, lays her cheek there to watch Maisie hop around the tree.

The girl crawls underneath, apparently hanging tinsel from the lowest branches.

"Maze," she calls out. "Not too low. We don't want Sir Claude to eat it."

"He thinks it's shiny," Maisie calls back. She crawls around on the tree skirt and comes out the other side, her hair wild around her face and her hands filled with silver tinsel. "But I'm hiding it so he can't find it."

Kate feels Castle's laughter rumbling in his chest, and she smiles herself. "All right. But not the low limbs - remember? He'll knock off all your favorite ornaments."

"I got it," Maisie says, reassuring them with a bright grin. She heads for a container of felt angels that she made back in preschool, gathers them to her chest along with the tinsel. Maisie resumes decorating again, the tree looming over the girl in the space near the windows, but the Christmas lights are bright and multi-colored, highlighting Maisie's happiness.

Castle's chin comes to rest on the top of Kate's head, his arms drawing tighter around her, his chest the perfect cradle. She watches her daughter's haphazard tree-decorating: a red glass ornament here, a wooden miniature sled on the side, three mismatched snowflakes in a cluster at the front. Their tree always does look strange and unsymmetrical when Maisie is finished with it, but she enjoys it so much that they leave her to it.

"Is this Alexis's reindeer?" Maisie calls out, running back for them on the couch with a construction paper creation in her hands. "It's just like _mine._"

Castle chuckles and touches it with a finger. "Yes. Alexis made it when she was five."

"Like _me_. I made mine in kindergarten on Friday," Maisie gasps.

"Last Friday," Kate corrects. "And then you brought it with you, remember? It's still hanging up on our fridge at home in DC."

"Oh, they are _twins_. It's perfect," Maisie beams. "One for all my homes."

Castle laughs and taps her nose. "Exactly. Where should we put this one?"

"Somewhere Alexis can see it when she comes."

"That's next week," Castle reminds her softly. "Six more days."

"I know," Maisie tosses back airily. "I can _count_."

"Where are you hanging it?" Kate nudges. "Someplace she can see it - might be good on her door."

"Oh, but I want to see it too," Maisie sighs. "Can I put it on our fridge here?"

"That's fine," Castle says. "Just find some tape. You know the magnets won't hold it."

"Tried that in DC," Maisie agrees. "It fell right off." Maisie skips away, heading for the study, and Castle calls after her.

"Tape is in the drawer, Maze. Don't go sneaking around looking for presents. Top drawer _only_."

Kate laughs and sits up, grabbing her glass off the floor and taking Castle's empty one from the table behind the couch. "Want more?"

"No, I'm good."

She leans over him and kisses his forehead, and then she moves around for the kitchen. She places the glasses in the dishwasher and rinses her hands off, glitter from the various ornaments washing off into the sink.

"Hey, Kate," he says, getting up and coming towards her. He leans his elbows on the counter and dances his eyebrows at her. "Christmas gifts for the Maze."

"I got the two things you emailed me," she says, drying her hands on a dish towel. "That terrarium with the fairies? Whatever that was. The Learn to Draw Dogs book. And then I found this really cute dog-tag locket for her - I already put Sir Claude's picture inside it."

Castle chuckles and glances over his shoulder to check that Maisie hasn't come back with the tape. "I found her a t-shirt online. It has a screen print of the New York City skyline with the bat signal overhead - but it's the outline of a Corgi instead."

Kate grins back, a laugh popping out of her mouth. "Oh, yeah. That's good. I like that."

He looks so pleased with himself too - she likes that even more. Adorable - charcoal grey sweater looks good on him tonight, tinting his eyes a winter blue.

"There's also a poster I could get her - Corgis pulling Santa's sleigh. The one in the lead has a red nose too."

"You haven't already?" she teases. "I'm surprised."

"I thought maybe we were going overboard, so I held myself back."

Kate laughs again and Maisie comes flying from the study and through the living room, her hair streaming back from her face.

"I found the tape. And only the tape! I promise." She gives her father an impish look and smacks the construction paper reindeer onto the fridge at just over the height of her head. "Cool."

Kate laughs and gathers Maisie's hair off her neck, leans over to give her a raspberry, making the girl giggle. "You did a great job. Thanks for doing our decorating, little bug."

"I'm the best decorator," Maisie says. "Hey, can we put out our presents under the tree now?"

"Of course," Kate replies, lifting up to glance at Castle for his agreement. He nods and calls for Maisie to come with him. The girl darts toward her father and takes his hand, skipping for the coat closet where apparently they've been storing everything.

As Castle and their daughter pull out piles of gifts, Kate stands in the kitchen and takes in a deep breath of her contentment.

She'll give him _his_ gift tonight.

* * *

Kate wakes when Castle tries to lift Maisie off of her chest. She finds herself clutching her daughter and struggling for awareness, blinks up at Castle. "No."

"Kate," he whispers. "Let her go, babe. I'm carrying her up to her room."

"You're what?" she mumbles. And then comprehension clears her head and she lets go. "Sorry, yeah, here. I'll walk up with you."

Castle scoops up Maisie and Sir Claude jumps to the floor, tags clinking against his collar, the little nub of his tail going back and forth. Kate reaches up to take a fistful of Castle's shirt, struggles up from the couch. He waits on her before heading for the stairs, and she has to be mindful of the dog so she won't trip.

When they make it to the second floor, Kate pushes ahead of him to open the door to Maisie's room. She heads for the bed and pulls down the paisley-patterned comforter, finds the girl's pajamas tucked into her pillow case. Paisley and puppies have always been Maisie's favorite.

Castle lays their daughter down on her sheets and starts tugging off her brown, fur-lined boots. Kate works on her leggings, then Castle lifts Maisie so Kate can tug the sweater off. Her hair crackles with static electricity and Kate eases her daughter's pajama top over her head, maneuvering the girl's limp arms inside.

Castle pulls up her pajama pants, smoothing the top with a broad hand, and then he tugs the covers over her. Kate kisses her daughter's forehead and breathes a good-night into her skin.

"Come on," he murmurs, his hand on her waist and nudging. "I have something for you downstairs."

She straightens up, pushing her hair behind her ear, her eyes on his in the dim light spilling in from the hallway. "Oh?"

"You said Christmas every day - means you should open a present."

She grins and lifts on her toes to press her lips to his, softly, and then she pushes him towards the door. "I have a present for you too."

* * *

Kate leaves him rustling under the Christmas tree for the gift he wants her to open while she heads into the bedroom. She tugs her suitcase out from the corner, realizes she can soon put it away for good. Unzipping the top compartment, she takes out the envelope which she received only yesterday.

Holding it against her chest, Kate comes back down the hall to the living room, pausing in the threshold between them to watch Castle. His back is to her as he wriggles a small, wrapped box from the pile under the tree. He's pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, his forearms burnished in the light. She knows the way his skin heats hersl, can practically feel it against her palm. She's missed him and it's only been four days.

He turns and startles when he sees her, gives her a crooked smile with those deep crinkles at his eyes. "Hey, there you are. Didn't hear you come in."

"That my present?" she murmurs.

He grins wider. "Yeah, you want to open it?"

"Yeah," she smiles, stepping forward to take it from him. She keeps the envelope in her hand and bites her bottom lip. "This is yours."

He lifts an eyebrow and reaches for it, takes it slowly from her fingers. "You first."

She's already slicing through the pale blue snowflake-patterned paper, getting a finger under the flap and slowly unwrapping it. The blue velvet jewelry box is soft in her fingers, and she presses her nail into the seam, popping it open.

She takes in the sight of a beautiful round opal on a chain, fiery and gleaming in its own light. "Wow. Castle."

"Reminds me of the sky in DC in the winter," he murmurs, reaching out to touch the opal. "Shimmering." He slips it from the hooks holding it in the velvet and lifts it out with one hand. "And how it's become home to me."

She swallows hard and her lashes are thick, framing the sight of him as she has to blink rapidly. "Put it on me?" she says.

"Course. Hold this," he says softly, putting the envelope back into her hands. Castle trails his fingers at her collarbone and fastens the necklace at her nape as she lifts her hand to touch the cool opal. Blue and pink, like the sky in winter in DC. It will be a beautiful reminder of that part of their life together. Of the statement he's made in support of her - of them.

"Open this now," she says to him, handing over the envelop again. "Open it and read it."

"It's a letter?" he asks.

She nods. "I haven't opened it, but I know what it says."

He shoots her a curious look and slips his finger under the flap, ripping it open quickly.

"It's from the Attorney General's office," he says in surprise.

She hasn't read it, but she knows. She watches his face and sees the instant he reads the news. His face twists and breaks open with joy, his eyes startling up to meet hers. "Kate."

"Yeah. They just told me. And then this came in the mail - it's official."

He growls and opens his arms to her, pulling her hard into his embrace, squeezing so that her whole body is pressed to his.

She kisses his jaw, brushes her lips at his ear. "They gave me the transfer. I'm back in New York, Rick. Merry Christmas."

He laughs and kisses her roughly, fingers digging into her shoulders. "Welcome home, Kate."


	11. 100 Days of Summer - Chapter One

**100 Days of Summer**

* * *

Castle squints at the laptop screen and carefully shifts his position; he pauses at the edge of the office chair, thoughts pulled rudely from his writing by the flare of muscle pain down his side.

He breathes, he breathes, and then he hears the front door click open, keys rattling.

Castle swallows down the urge to move - it never does any good - and it's like this that Kate finds him.

"Move too quickly?" she says. She's peeling off her coat and scarf as she comes into the office, dropping her winter rainment on the leather couch.

"Yeah," he offers on a puff of breath.

She doesn't answer that; she knows all too well. He watches her unzip her knee-high black leather boots, letting her easy grace and stunning sensuality drown out his pain.

"How's the article coming?" she asks then, straightening and tucking her hair behind her ear where it's fallen forward.

"Slowly," he admits.

"How long have you been sitting in that chair?"

"Probably longer than is wise," he grumbles. She stands in the middle of his study and observes him, non-judgmental, but her blank face and her silence pass judgment anyway. "I need to finish it. It goes up on the blog at midnight and then out to the _Ledger_ for their morning edition."

"Aren't they supposed to have it at eight?" she says, checking her watch.

"I got them to push it back. Honestly, Kate, I never expected - when I created Nikki and Rook - for us to play out those characters quite so true to form."

She gives him a slow smile. "Rick Castle the world-famous journalist?"

"Well," he amends. "Not quite. No drug lord interviews, not going to be embedded with the 64th Division or anything."

"Glad for that," she murmurs. She's sweeping her hair from her shoulder and reaching for an earring to take it out. He watches a moment, the strong and deft movements of her fingers, and wishes he knew of a way to do this just right.

It's early yet, and his plan doesn't go into effect until eight. But he's got to find a way to distract her from a total wardrobe change. "Did you ship the evidence to the lab in Texas?" he says, going with the case. It usually never fails to get her talking.

She nods gravely and leans over to drop her earrings on the edge of his desk, her ease of movement making him slightly jealous. He felt fine today until he sat hunched at his desk writing the article. She scratches her scalp and rolls her shoulders, entirely stepping over his nudge into her mother's case. If he could sit up straight without pain, he might do something about that.

"Hey," she says. "No more. Take a break - an hour or two. We'll make dinner, have some wine - won't talk about the Dragon or any of it."

He winces; they can't do dinner here. "I'd like to, but Kate..."

She fiddles with the edge of her tailored jacket but then nods at him. "Okay, then I'll make us dinner and you finish. And then you're taking a muscle relaxer."

"No."

Her brow furrows. He knows he's been able to run right over her well-placed concern for him because of _her_ recovery time spent apart from him; he knows her guilt has made her too easy on him. But the muscle relaxant makes him feel exhausted for hours after he wakes from its coma, and he wants tonight free and clear.

Plus, she can't make dinner. That would ruin it.

"But I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine," he says softly. "Please."

She sighs and comes for him behind his desk, traces her hands up his arms to his shoulders as she leans down over him. Her kiss is soft and seeking both, her attempt to gauge his true weariness, and her thumb brushes his cheekbone as she parts from him.

"Coming right up. Straighten your spine, Rick. Hunched over like that, you're going to hurt all night."

He snorts as she walks away from him, but she's right. Even though it causes a flash of pain, he straightens his spine and stops slouching at his desk.

He has to write this article before eight.

* * *

She jumps, startled, when his hands caress her waist and his body presses in behind her at the kitchen sink.

"Hey," she laughs softly, nudging her cheek into his.

"Hey. Smells, um, good." Some hesitation in his voice.

"Leftovers, Castle. Don't worry about it."

"Ah, well. That's good."

"It's the Chinese we had the other night."

"That's perfect," he sighs. "That works out perfectly."

She gives up trying to understand, bites her tongue, lets him compliment her just as he complements her. They fit. His body is warm and solid at her back, his nose pressing into her hair, his breath skimming her ear as he plays with her shirt.

She lets him.

She misses their summer. Misses his not-subtle guerilla warfare against her early morning rising, misses his telling her to go home but kissing her again and again and making it impossible. She misses running from zombies on his ipod and fighting with his family about which X-Men movie is the best. She misses Shakespeare in the Park and the way the sunlight can shine and gleam through the skyscrapers.

She misses their walking tour of the city, even though they theorized it was that very thing that made her a target again - the way she'd taken her partner around to every point of interest in her mother's case, as if flaunting their knowledge, as if hot on the trail once more. She misses the days when Castle didn't flinch at sudden loud noises, misses the ease with which he could roll over on top of her in bed and make her beg.

Well, she still does that begging.

"Maybe it's not dinner that smells good," he murmurs at her neck. "Maybe it's you." His tongue forays out and makes her body electric, her hands going still over the dishes she's trying to rinse off.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe."

"Eloquent there, Kate."

"Mm, just..."

His mouth brushes against her spine and his kiss is wet, his body heavy at her back. She wants a thing she can't name but can see in a thousand searing images of summer.

"Summer is over," he sighs at her skin. "But so is our fall, Kate. Fall is done."

"What?"

"It's the first day of winter," he says with a last kiss. She feels him tug her away from the dishes in the sink, his fingers between hers and the sauce pan from last night, taking her away from it. "Don't worry about this. The cleaning service will do it tomorrow."

Kate sighs and lets him push her away, giving it up. Her eyes must be closed because his kiss against her eyelid is surprising and soft and it makes her heart ache a little.

"No more of this. Like you said when you got home, Kate - no more. We're taking a break."

"Did you finish the article?" she murmurs, opening her eyes.

He's smiling at her, that easy smile she's seen so rarely these days. "All done. You wanna proofread it?"

"Yeah, babe. I will." She strokes her fingers through his hair and watches it fall back into place, his eyes on her so blue. "Right now?"

"No. I have something for you."

She drops her hand. "You do?"

He looks a little sheepish, and she tilts her head at him, reaches out again to hook her finger in the top button of his dress shirt. More than just sheepish - he looks a little flustered.

"Castle," she warns. She presses her fingers to his chest, the scar where the bullet collapsed his lung late this summer.

"I have... like an early Christmas present."

"What did you do?"

"Well, apparently it was illegal," he mutters, his face falling.

"Oh, no," she laughs, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Castle. What did you do?"

"I tried to buy you a turtle," he grits out.

"A... sea turtle? But they're endangered. That's-"

"No, a _box_ turtle. I _know_ sea turtles are endangered. But did you know it's illegal to sell or even _own_ a turtle smaller than four inches in the state of New York?"

She blinks at him, mouth open but no words coming out.

"Yeah," he sighs. "It was going to be really romantic."

"A baby turtle?"

"Because of this summer - in Belize, you know. When we sat down on the beach in the dark and watched our little guy head for the sea with all his brothers. And you said-"

"It was work, but they'd make it." Kate strokes the edge of his collarbone, the side where he was shot, her fingers under his shirt. "Just like us. So what happened to my baby turtle, Castle?"

"I went to Chinatown yesterday - they were supposed to have box turtles for sale at this place-"

"This _place_?" she says skeptically.

"Right, yes, well, I should have realized. I was a block away and _federal agents_ raided the store."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not kidding you," he says seriously. She bites her bottom lip hard to keep from laughing at him, drags her fingers up to his jaw, getting a little lost in how she loves him.

"The thought that counts, Rick," she says softly.

"Not true," he counters. "I found a back-up. It's not as great, but..."

She rolls her eyes at his dramatic pause, but he takes her hand and tugs her after him, on the move. She follows him through the kitchen, the living room, back into his study once more. His hand engulfs hers, and she suddenly has a flash of memory: his swollen fingers in the ICU after being shot, the rasp of his too-dry and brittle skin against hers, the way she couldn't even get their hands to fit.

She has to swallow down the irrational urge to cry with relief, now that their clasp can be so easy and right, that his fingers can play against hers, that he can turn his head and give her that beaming grin.

"See?" He hands her his ipad and presents her with a full-screen image of a sea turtle lumbering towards the ocean, churning up sand.

"What is this?" she laughs.

"Nate the Great."

"What?"

"He's yours. Well, he's yours via the New England Aquarium Sea Turtle Release Program of 2012. He's a Pacific Green Turtle - don't ask me why since they inhabit the Atlantic Ocean too - I mean, it says the New England Aquarium, right? It makes no sense."

"He's mine?" she murmurs, tracing her finger over the teardrop shaped shell.

"Swipe to the next image," he says.

She slides her finger across the screen and gasps. A tiny black-bodied hatchling rests in the palm of a volunteer's hand, no bigger than the skin between the heart and life lines.

"That was Nate the Great before he got to be so - great."

"He's beautiful," she laughs, reaching out a finger like she can flick at the sand covering his little flipper. "You got me a sea turtle?"

"Adopted. We take care of him as he's tagged and tracked in his migration patterns. And you get this to remember him," he says.

Kate lifts her head when he weighs down the ipad with a stuffed animal - a baby sea turtle just like the one on the screen.

She laughs and clutches the little animal. "Is this Nate?"

"Yeah."

She presses her finger to the over-large, sad eyes, the spots of brown and black and pale green along the shell. The flippers are large and floppy and seem to hug her hand as she holds it, a so-soft plush.

"Happy Winter, Kate," he says quietly.

She lifts her head and pushes a kiss to that sweet, hopeful mouth. "Thank you. For being so romantic that you nearly got yourself arrested. I love my sea turtle."

"And since it's all kind of virtual," he says with a smile. "And since I've been - sometimes rather nasty to you this past fall..."

"You haven't been anything I haven't been to you," she says. Her fingers trace his jaw. "Promise."

"Well, regardless - you don't deserve me stampeding your every attempt to help. I know you've been trying to carry the load, and with the publicity about your mom's case... it's been harder on you than I meant for it to be."

"Castle-"

"So there's one more thing."

She wishes he didn't feel the need to keep making it up to her. She feels like his recovery fall has evened out her recovery summer - although he's allowed her to live in his own loft this fall while she ignored him entirely that summer she was shot. "One more? Castle, you don't have to."

"Of course not. But I want to. So put your boots back on, baby. We're going out."


	12. 100 Days of Summer - Final Chapter

**100 Days**

* * *

Castle has called the car service, which she apparently didn't expect, because she gives him a look and runs her hand through her hair as they settle into the backseat.

"You look gorgeous, Kate," he assures her. He's in his dress shirt and pants, no tie, and while it is a somewhat formal event, it's also low-key and intimate. "You always do, but I love this."

He brushes his fingers over the soft silk shell - royal blue that makes her eyes mossy - and then hooks a thumb in the cute pocket of the houndstooth jacket that makes him think of Nancy Drew. Not in a bad, teen-aged girl kind of way, but in that sophisticated and pulled together way, where she's smart and successful and doesn't take crap from anyone. He _likes_ Nancy Drew.

He's kinda hot for Nancy Drew.

"Where are we going?" she murmurs.

"Out for dinner."

"Is that why you were messing with me about the leftovers?"

He grins. "Messing with you?" he asks innocently.

"You little snot."

He laughs harder and grips his right side, hanging on to the muscles that twinge. "Did you get that from Alexis? I heard her say it to a friend last week on the phone."

"Yeah," she shrugs. "So? Still true."

"Hmm," he chuckles. And then he has to wince, breath constricting with the way the scar pulls. Kate doesn't remark on it, but she rubs her knuckles into the intercostal space of his ribs, easing the strained, knotted muscles there. He sighs and relaxes, enjoying her touch, how she knows just what he needs.

"Better?" she murmurs.

"Getting there."

"I've told you over and over that you shouldn't be hunched in that chair all afternoon."

"You have," he admits. His eyes grow drowsy with the feel of her touch, firm and working just under his arm. "You're gonna stay, right?"

"Stay where?"

He opens his eyes and turns his head to her in the darkness of the car. "Never mind. Just - popped out. Hey, so, the article?"

"It was perfect," she says hurriedly. "I mean, I read it fast, but it's exactly what we need to say right now. Not too much... we can't just outright say it - no one will believe us. We have to build our case."

"Tell all the truth, but tell it slant," he quotes. "Success in circuit lies."

She smiles softly and brings her hand up to cup his face, her thumb dragging at his bottom lip. "Emily Dickinson? I like it. Sexy."

He chuckles and leans in, kisses her mouth with her thumb between them. "Because I could not stop for Death - He kindly stopped for me."

"Less so, now," she laughs, nuzzling into his nose. "Although... 'My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun..."

"Oh?"

She shrugs, smiles at him. "Had stood. I don't know. The only other one I could remember. Something about me protecting you." She shrugs again, looking supremely uncomfortable, and he kisses her and lets her off the hook.

"Protect me all you like, Kate, if only you let me do the same when it comes time."

"You already have."

"It's not a one-time deal."

She doesn't seem to like it, but she doesn't say anything more.

* * *

Kate pauses when she steps out of the car service, catches her breath. The restaurant before them is closed to the public tonight, the sign says, but the doors to Saveur open when Castle pulls on them and then he guides her inside.

In the foyer, the warm wood and brass fixtures of the restaurant's interior make the dim lighting glow golden across the floor. The hostess checks Castle's name from a master list and hands them two aprons and two lanyards with IDs in plastic. She stares at him, speechless, as he drapes the apron over her head, settles it in place with a soft smile.

"What are you doing?" she says.

He grins and leans in to kiss her; she feels his warm breath and the tug of the apron strings as he ties them behind her. His fingers skim her hips. "Suiting you up, Kate."

"What is this?"

"Chef Jennie is in the kitchen," the hostess states. "If you'll follow me. Please keep your IDs on and feel free to ask for whatever you like at the bar."

Castle adjusts his apron and puts his hand to Kate's back, nudging her to follow the hostess towards the back. The hostess stays with them while they order scotch on the rocks and a glass of white, and then, drinks in hand, they push past the kitchen doors.

Kate is confronted with a host of mostly women clustered around a huge butcher block of a workspace. About fifteen or twenty all told, and they're sipping drinks and chatting softly together, watching a woman who holds center court at the block.

"Chef Jennie, these are Mr. Rick Castle and Ms. Kate Beckett - from _The Ledger_."

Kate jerks a look at Castle and the corner of his eye quirks; she holds her tongue and extends her hand to the chef who shakes with a bright smile.

"I'm Jennie," she says in response, and her accent is that lovely Belizean Creole that sounds relaxed and warm. "I'm the head chef at Elvi's in San Pedro. I'll be making a variety of dishes from my native country."

"Oh," Kate says, startled. "We were just there. This summer. San Pedro - and we went to Elvi's. It was great - the food is fantastic."

"Well, now, good to 'meet' you again," Jennie says with a laugh. "How did you like my island?"

"It was... amazing," she says honestly. She throws Castle a quick look but can't help the way it fills her up, memory and love and the work they did. "We saw baby sea turtles crawl into the ocean one night and I went on a nature walk and snorkeling in the ocean and - oh, night sailing. The moon rising over the water, the rocking of the boat."

"Wow," another woman remarks, leaning in against the wooden counter. "The Tourism Board should hire you. That sounds fantastic. Now I want to go."

"And Kate's not the writer," Castle laughs. "I am."

Jennie beams at them. "It is a beautiful place. Filled with magic."

"Yes," Kate grins. She finds Castle's hand and squeezes. "Definitely found some magic. We loved it. I'm so glad to meet you - and here in my city now."

The hostess leads in one last person and clears her throat for their attention. "Well, I think that's everyone. Chef Jennie, I leave it up to you."

* * *

Jennie makes rum punch first - from Belize's own One Barrel rum - and the taste of passion fruit is heavy on Castle's tongue. He gets a chance to stand just behind Kate in some rather close quarters while the crowd of food critics and journalists gather around, and he watches Jennie create conch's fritters and jalapeno poppers for appetizers.

The sharpness makes Kate draw back into him, laughing, and she swallows more rum punch, the backs of her thighs brushing his. He feels the buzz and the warmth, like so many nights in Belize, can almost imagine that the cooling sand and the moon will be outside when they leave here tonight.

Saveur's kitchen is filled with delectable aromas as Chef Jennie demonstrates how to prepare a few local dishes. Then the previously-made finished products are placed on circular tables in the main dining room while Jennie answers questions posed to her by the journalists. The group of twenty or so are then led out with the promise of Plantain Chips going before them like the proverbial carrot stick, and Castle pulls out a chair for Kate at the table.

He sits beside her and takes up his napkin, folds it over his lap, only some mild pain in his ribs and shoulder - thanks to the rum punch, most likely - and Kate offers him a beautiful, heartbreaking smile.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her hand sliding across his knee. "I needed this. A little bit of summer."

He smiles back at her, the rich flavors of Belize in the air around them, reminding them both of how good it is - and how the good takes work, preparation.

"I did too," he admits. "And at least my journalist's credentials are good for something."

Chef Jennie stands at the head table and raises her glass; they follow suit.

"To Belize and its cuisine. Enjoy."

* * *

She doesn't even mind that they haven't won the raffled-off trip for two to La Isla Bonita, not when Kate feels like she's won so much more tonight. They've gotten a parting gift of a take-away bag filled with pepper sauce, cookbooks, condiments, an Elvi's restaurant t-shirt and as she digs deeper, a beautiful hand-carved turtle.

"No," she laughs, pulling it out. "A sea turtle? Castle."

He laughs back and holds up a hand, only a small twinge on his face with the movement. "Wasn't me. A gift from the Universe, Kate."

"What did you get?" she murmurs. "Look in your bag."

He opens his own hemp bag and reaches inside, pulls out his own gift. "A shark."

The taste of Belize tonight and the sea turtle has reminded her of something. Kate pushes her hand into the pocket of her houndstooth jacket, rubs her fingers over the little token she found inside it earlier this morning.

"Rick," she says softly.

He pushes his shark back into his bag and glances at her. "Yeah?"

"This morning I grabbed my jacket and I found this in it. Did you do this?"

She pulls out the little black shell from her pocket, unfolds her fingers so he can see it on her palm.

His eyes jerk to hers and he touches the shiny, pearled-black of the shell. "No. No, I-" He clears his throat and strokes his finger over it. "I thought it was lost. You have two at your apartment and there are two at my place, but it's been so long since I've seen it."

"The baby is with me," she murmurs, half smiling at him. "The pink one." For - whenever she might need it. But. "I thought it was the only one I had."

"I don't how it got in your pocket." He tilts his head and smiles at her, hopefully, his eyes caressing the lines of her face like a touch. "But obviously it's for a reason."

She stares at the little black shell - the one she always thought of as herself - her heart filling up, and then she leans in and touches her mouth to his.

His lips are soft and spicy against hers, his tongue in a familiar dance. She nudges into him and scoots closer in the back of the car; his free arm comes around her and pulls her half into his lap.

"Kate, I don't want you to go."

"I'm not going anywhere. Besides that driver's seen worse."

"I don't mean now, from my lap," he chuckles. His palm cups the side of her face. "I mean with me. My loft. Don't leave."

She touches her fingers to his cheek to hold him away; she stares at him. "Don't leave?"

"I want you to move in with me. Not just a suitcase, but everything, Kate. Everything. All our shells should be together, don't you think?"

She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and pushes the black shell into the pocket of his dress shirt. "Yes. I think so. Let's go home, Rick."


	13. Little Lion Man - Chapter One

**Little Lion Man**

* * *

Beckett ends the call from Castle and glances up guiltily towards Esposito. But the detective has been perched on the edge of her desk listening to the whole conversation and so he waves her off before she can even start.

"Go."

"He's sick," she tries to explain. "There's only three hours left on my shift."

"I got it. You go."

She stands and reaches for her coat, still biting her lip. "Castle's at the doctor's office or else I wouldn't-"

"Would you just leave already?" Espo snorts. "I don't even know why you do this any more. Taking the Christmas Eve shift when you got places to be."

She pulls on her coat so she doesn't have to answer that, tugs her hair out from under the collar. "I know you can't make dinner tonight, but tomorrow? Really, Javi, we'd love to have you."

He makes a sour face. "Actually, don't tell Ryan, but I promised Lanie I'd go with her to her folks tomorrow morning."

Kate laughs, feeling better about leaving Esposito alone in Homicide for Christmas Eve. "Well, that's going to be an experience. All her brothers."

"You're telling me," he grumbles. "Now, get out of here. I'll let Gates know."

"Thanks," she murmurs. And then she does the unthinkable on any other day. She leans in and lightly kisses his cheek.

She can hear him muttering curses her whole walk to the elevator.

* * *

When she pushes open the interior door to the doctor's office waiting room, she sees Castle right away, filling out paperwork in a cramped, plastic chair against one wall.

She heads swiftly inside, her concern bleeding out of her, and she drops to Castle's side. "Hey, baby. Oh, you poor thing. You okay?"

"Mama," he whimpers, hands reaching for her.

Castle sighs and shakes his head, giver her their son. "You take him. Your hands are free."

She juggles Leo in her lap and snatches the boy's hand as he tries to reach for the toddler in the next chair over. "No, honey. Keep our hands to ourselves. We're all sick."

Leo gives her a pitiful look and then he rubs his fists into his ears, grunting his words.

"I'm sure it's an ear infection. Again," Castle sighs.

Kate strokes her fingers through Leo's soft hair, rubs her thumb in a hard circle at the boy's jaw. One of the doctors they saw a few months ago said it would release sinus pressure and help with the pain.

But Leo squirms away from her and tries to get down again; their twenty month old isn't happy to be trapped in his mother's arms. He wants to play, but he's clearly too miserable to do much more than whine, since he comes back to her and starts gnawing on her knee through her jeans, clinging to her calves.

"You didn't have to come," Castle tells her, scratching out the kid's social security number with quick strokes of the pen. "I know you like to do your thing on Christmas Eve. Honor your mom."

She winces, either from his words or the kid chewing on her knee, she's not sure. Probably both. "To be honest... I really just wanted to give you and Alexis time together."

"I would have brought Alexis with me if I thought I needed help."

"No, I mean... You and Alexis were supposed to have today," she sighs.

"Have today?"

"I told her I was at the precinct, like usual, and I asked her to come over and keep you from getting lonely. You guys should hang out on Christmas Eve - since I'm working. It's your tradition. I want you two to still have that. Last year - I don't know. It didn't feel right."

And she figured Leo is a good distraction, something neutral for them to talk about and fuss over. The day can get away from them if they're running around after the kid, entertaining him and keeping him out of trouble.

Castle sighs. "We're fine, Kate. She's at the loft - we were going to make our usual ham. But she offered to stay and keep cooking while I took him in."

He finishes the form and stands to turn it in at the front desk, leaving her with Leo at the chairs. Castle's shoulders are hunched, and she wonders if he's tired and rundown, getting sick himself, or if he's thinking about Alexis. Or worried over Leo? Maybe it's her he's weighted down with.

Leo tries to break her hold on the back of his shirt, wriggling and grunting, so she leans down and scoops him up. He starts rubbing his ear against her chest, whining, and he wraps his hands around her thumb and chews on it. Castle stops in front of them with a sigh, his hand dusting the top of Kate's head before hooking his finger around Kate's thumb and pulling it away from the boy.

"Come here, Leo," he murmurs, taking their son from her. Leo gives a pitiful sound against Castle's chest, but his father covers his head with a hand, palm hiding his eyes, and that seems to put him under a spell.

"He's so miserable," she sighs. "Poor Leo, you feel bad, huh? It's no fun to be sick at Christmas."

"Maybe it'll be fast," Castle offers, but the look on his face says he doubts it. The ear infections have lingered all winter and they're in for some sleepless nights.

"You don't need to stay, Rick," she murmurs, not looking at him, studying her son. "My shift is covered at the 12th, and this looks to be a long wait. You were supposed to be starting dinner with Alexis."

"This is more important. Dinner can wait." Castle leans in and gives her a quick kiss at the corner of her eye, holding Leo between them. "We're good, Kate. Easier with both of us here - we can switch off trying to keep him distracted."

She leans her shoulder against his and curls her fingers around Leo's fat little leg. Once they've seen the doctor, maybe then she can get it out of him - whatever it is that Castle's worrying over.

* * *

"How's Leo?" Alexis asks the moment they walk in the door. "Is he asleep?"

"I think so," Kate whispers. "Castle, is he asleep?"

She glances over at Rick and he's ducking down to scan their son's face, the little boy curled in her arms. "Yeah, he's out. He must be heavy; I'll take him."

She relinquishes Leo to his hands, catching the blanket before it can fall. "Here. He'll want this." The baby blanket is covered in safari animals, soft and green, and it's his favorite. She tucks it in under Leo's chin as Castle adjusts his hold, heading for the stairs. "Hey, wait. Keep him down here. Put him in our bed."

"In _our_ bed?" he whines.

"Castle."

He sighs but turns around, heads for their bedroom still grumbling about it. Kate shoves on his back a little in response but she gives his daughter a smile. "I hear you made our Christmas Eve dinner?"

"Most of it. I have a few last things to do - if you feel like helping."

"Of course," she says hurriedly. She's still trying too hard with Alexis, and she knows that, but it's seemed better to be over-eager than to let herself get swept away by their son. "What do I need to do?"

"You can mash the potatoes. Was it just an ear infection?" Alexis asks, handing over the masher.

Kate frowns into the boiled potatoes. "Yeah, another ear infection. The pediatrician called in a prescription to the pharmacy, so we picked it up on our way back. There was a huge line at the drug store. It's crazy out there."

"Leo looked pretty miserable, even asleep."

"He is," Kate sighs. "And we think he's teething - those back molars. I'm sorry - I'm not sure how fun Christmas is going to be with him."

"It's fine, Kate," Alexis says easily. "It's not your fault he's sick - it just happens. We'll all try to cheer him up."

She has felt a little guilty; she noticed Leo rubbing his ears last week and didn't do anything about it. She forgot, actually, because of the case, trying to rush in to work to get it closed before Christmas, and she meant to say something and never did.

"Is Pi going to make it for dinner?" Kate asks, needing a distraction.

"Yes," Alexis says crisply.

Whoops. Kate knew better. That's still not the easiest subject in this house, despite the years. "Just wondering where he was. Expected to see him in on all this cooking." Well, not the ham, maybe.

"He's got to finish up at the lab," Alexis informs, looking away.

Kate rubs at her forehead and stares at the potatoes. She's not doing this well. She thought she'd figured this out a few months ago, but the currents of this family's relationships are constantly shifting. "Well, you've certainly made plenty for everyone," she finishes lamely. This is probably why Castle looked so rundown at the doctor's office.

Now that Pi is in the grad program connected to Environmental Earth Studies at NYU, Castle's indignant disdain _has_ faded. Even if the ramifications of his dislike haven't quite - Alexis sometimes still feels like they're all making fun of Pi.

And okay, so they do still sometimes make fun of Pi.

"How's his work going?" Kate asks, wanting to show interest on Castle's behalf as well.

"Good. He's expanded into two more rural farms in Massachusetts. He installed the hives himself."

"That's great," Kate says, surprised by the achievement but trying to hide it. She and Castle probably talk a little too much about Pi, both of them rolling their eyes. It's been years since he dropped in on them that summer they got engaged, but that negative first impression hasn't really left either of them. "The research going well then?"

"Honey bees are responsible for over a hundred different fruit and vegetable crops we eat. If they keep disappearing like this, Kate, I..." Alexis trails off and glances at her, blushing. "But you don't care."

"I care," she says quickly. "I'm care that _someone_ cares. That Pi has put his talent and energy behind this. It's not something I could do - my passion lies elsewhere. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate Pi's work."

Alexis nods, but the subject is most definitely closed. Kate wracks her brain for something else, anything else, to smooth this over. "What about Martha? Is Gram going to make it?"

"She'll be here in a few minutes. She wanted to see Leo tonight."

Kate sighs and pushes the masher through the boiled potatoes. "If he's asleep, I'd like him to stay that way. I don't want him getting passed around when he's cranky and sick."

"I'm sure she'll be fine with that," Alexis says hesitantly. "We'll just... leave him alone."

"No, I didn't mean... it's not a problem," Kate says quickly. "It's Christmas Eve. He'll be sad to miss out. He'll want to be up with everyone. I just don't want to wake him until we have to."

"I get it, Kate," Alexis starts, but Castle comes back into the living room, rubbing his hands together and sniffing the air dramatically.

"Smells good, Alexis. What have you got? Need any help?"

"You can check on the carrot souffle - it's in the oven," Alexis directs. "How's my brother?"

Kate's fingers still on the pot of potatoes she's mashing, the realization flooding her once more. Like it's new again. Leo is Alexis's brother, and a grandson to Martha. If they want to see him, play with him, share Christmas Eve with him - even sick - she needs to get out of their way.

"He's asleep for now. The ear drops make him drowsy, I think."

"I'm sure he'll wake soon," Kate adds. "And when he does, I'll let you and Gram fight over him."

Alexis gives a slow grin. "I've kinda been looking forward to Christmas all month - just to see Leo again."

"Hey now. What am I?" Castle grumbles. "Chopped liver?"

"Chopped liver, Dad," Alexis laughs. "Sorry, but you're not a cute baby brother. I see you all the time. Him? I'm missing all the best parts being stuck in the law library every day."

That does it. Kate's been so concerned about giving Alexis quality time with her father that she's completely forgotten the girl needs quality time with her _family_. Well, no more of that. In fact, it might be easier on Castle and Alexis - and Pi - if everyone's around them, might actually be joyful. How is it that she forgets so often how much this family brings that to each other - to her?

With the Castles, this isn't the usual Beckett Christmas.

And now she wants to wake up Leo and bring the kid out here, let his easy laughter and loud demands for attention charm them all.

Well, maybe once the medication has knocked out the worst of his ear infection. After that.


	14. Little Lion Man - Final Chapter

**Little Lion Man**

* * *

She and Castle change clothes in the bedroom, whispering to keep from waking Leo. The toddler is hemmed in with pillows, his cheek pressed hard into the sheets, his knees tucked under him in what has to be the least comfortable sleeping position ever. Kate turns away from the bed and pulls her shirt off over her head, tosses it at Castle's appreciative face.

He catches it, grins back at her with his eyebrows wriggling. "Here." She just manages to catch her dress he throws at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him for it. He ducks back into the closet for the last of his wardrobe while Kate steps into the green eyelet material, pulls it up her shoulders.

When Castle comes back into the bedroom with his tie in his hands, she turns around and draws her hair to one side.

"Zip me?"

The tie is thrown on the bed just past her, narrowly avoiding Leo, and then Castle's hands frame her waist, his body close, heat building. He hums something as his hand closes around her zipper, tugging a little as he holds the base of her dress and pulls the tab up. She shivers, liking the sound and his hands on her, and she turns back around to kiss his cheek.

His smile is weak - he looks tired. He still looks weighed down with something and she kisses him again, softer, more purposeful, hoping to ease it away. When she parts, his hands drift away from her, reluctance in his sigh.

But Castle's smile is deeper now, a measure of contentment pressed into his lines. So she leaves him there to put on his tie, stepping into her heels on her way out the door. "Don't wake him up, if you can help it," she murmurs, nodding to their son.

"I'm right behind you," he says in return. And he's right - he's already making the last loop and pulling his tie through the knot. She comes back to him, heels clicking on the hardwood, and she straightens his tie, brushing her fingers at his adam's apple before kissing him again.

They enter the living room together.

* * *

Dinner is spread richly out over the table, the places all set, wine poured, Alexis lighting the candles. Kate's father has managed to corner Pi, trapping him in a conversation about the disappearing lakes in upstate New York. When Martha finally arrives, her enthusiasm and color touch everyone in the loft - suddenly it is truly a holiday event.

"How beautiful everyone is tonight. Darlings, it looks wonderful. Who made the casserole?"

"That was me," Alexis grins, wrapping her arms around her grandmother. "But I used your recipe. We're glad you're here. Pi said it was snowing?"

"It is - but only spitting. Can you not see it from here?"

"No, it's too dark and the lights only show us our own reflections," Castle laughs at her, kissing her cheek.

"Where's my boy?" Martha says, clapping her hands together.

"He's got another ear infection," Castle sighs, beginning to explain their ordeal this afternoon at the pediatrician's office.

Kate glances towards her father and sees that he and Pi have broken off their conversation to pay attention to Martha - the woman always does become the focal point for their family, at least when Leo isn't around. Kate heads for her father and slides her arm through his, leans in to kiss him.

"Thanks for talking to Pi," she murmurs quietly.

"He's an earnest kid," her father shrugs. "Got to give him that."

Earnest is a good way to describe it. Sounds nicer than naive. And Pi has his good qualities - he has been steadfastly there for Alexis regardless of the situation.

Martha is lamenting her grandson's condition, and of course, she wants to sweep in and see him. Kate waves Castle off - no use trying to stop her - and the two of them file back into the bedroom.

"Well, let's all sit down, start filling our plates," Kate says. Their family shifts to their places, smiles across the table, everyone taking the same positions they had last year. Only last year, Leo was a chubby eight month old reaching for everything on his father's plate, taking some dramatic first steps into the Christmas tree, and getting passed around to all the family.

It doesn't quite feel right to not have him pulled up in his high chair, his fists beating out a rhythm against the plastic tray, feet thudding against the base. Although this year, maybe they'll let him sit in his own chair on top of a couple of dictionaries since he's nearly two, have him contained between her and Castle at the corner of the table, watch him like a hawk as he hams it up for his grandmother and tries to throw food on the floor.

She can picture it so well. Lately, Leo likes to pretend they have a dog and the dog will come _eat all, Mommy._

But Castle and Martha come back without the boy, and Kate lifts an eyebrow to Castle in question. He shakes his head and leans in over her, a kiss glancing the corner of her mouth.

"Still asleep."

Huh. "Did he get any sleep last night, you think?"

"He's out like a light," Martha laughs. "Drooling on your sheets."

Kate glances past them towards the hallway, wondering if she ought to check on him. But Castle lays a quelling hand on her shoulder and sits down at the head of the table, Martha getting the foot. Kate stays sitting at Castle's right, with her father on her side, Pi and Alexis opposite them. Jim bows his head for a moment and she stills out of respect, though the rest of their family chats eagerly about the food as they pass the dishes.

Castle opens his mouth to say something and his eyes catch her; he stops and waits until her father lifts his head and reaches for the rolls as they come his way. Kate takes Castle's hand in appreciation - how he saw the moment and respected it as well - and he smiles at her.

He's got such deep lines around his eyes. He looks weary. "You okay?"

"I'm good," he murmurs. "Just feels weird with him in there and us out here."

"Me too," she admits, shrugging. "You want to wake him up?"

"Yeah," he winces. "Stupid idea. I know it is. But-"

"Go. Wake him. We'll see what happens," she gives in. She can't help but love this man, how he gave her father that pause, how he wants his son with them for Christmas Eve dinner. "Go, Castle."

Her husband grins and leans in, kisses her loudly before pushing away from the table. She shakes her head at him, but she's pleased. And not so secretly. She knows her love is on her face.

Castle heads for their bedroom and their sleeping son.

* * *

Okay, so Christmas Eve dinner with the family was something of a disaster.

Kate wipes down Leo's neck, making faces at him as he twists his mouth and cries and tries to squirm away from her. She's propped him up on the counter while Castle and her father are sharing dish duty, cleaning up after their meal. Martha is hovering around; she can't wait to get her hands on Leo, despite the boy's crankiness.

"No, no, no!" Leo shouts. Kate wrinkles her nose and swipes the wet paper towel over his forehead where the medicine has gotten sticky. "Nooo, mama, no. No."

"Yes, yes, yes," she chants back, leaning in to blow a raspberry against his now-clean neck. "You are covered in medicine. Does no good _on_ you, only _in _you."

"In me!" Leo grabs her face and cackles with laughter, but as his head goes back in happiness, he knocks his skull into the cabinets and dissolves into tears.

"Oops," Kate sighs. "My fault." Leo wails and grabs his head, little arms short and mouth open wide with his dramatics, but the tears are real. "Sorry, I'm sorry. And you already feel bad, I know."

She brushes the tears with her thumbs, manages to clean off the rest of his medicine-smeared face as he leans in for her, wanting her comfort. Kate gathers him up then, his sweaty body against her chest, her fingers at his neck to keep him from twisting out of her grip.

"Rick," she calls.

"Yeah, hey, what?" He spins around, soap suds up to his elbows, and gives her a concerned look. "Does he feel worse?"

"No - bumped his head. He's still hot, but the tylenol should start working soon. I just wondered if you wanted to try presents or-"

"Santa!" Leo sits up straight in her arms and bounces, his flushed face happy again, tears wet but forgotten just like that. "Santa, Santa, Daddy!"

Kate laughs and Castle grins. "You're not too sick to want to miss out on Santa, huh?"

"Santa," Leo says sagely, nodding like he knows exactly. "Daddy - Santa come!"

"He comes in the morning, Simba, you know that."

Kate rolls her eyes, but she leans in with their now-growling cub and lets Castle give the boy a kiss on his cheek. She finds herself getting a brush of her husband's lips as well, a soap-sudsy hand touching the back of her elbow as she pulls away.

"No Santa until tomorrow. Daddy and I compromised," Kate tells her son. "But tonight you get to open your presents under the tree."

Martha comes forward and takes Leo out of Kate's arms. "Come on, my lion cub, let's start on our presents."

"Yes, yes, yes," Leo chants, squirming now but happy to be headed for the tree, even if it means being carried instead of running.

"Castle, go help," Kate says, nudging him aside at the dishes and handing him a towel to dry his hands.

"You don't want to-?"

"No, this is your thing. You're the one with Christmas Eve traditions," she grins, winking at him.

"You have traditions too," he says, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Yeah, but you're the one who's so excited. So you go handle that hot mess, and then we'll put him down for the night. If he'll go. I might have to stay with him and rock him."

"Hot mess?" he laughs, leaning in to lightly kiss her - catching her lips this time. "I see."

"He's feverish," she murmurs, taking another soft kiss. "And he's Christmas insane, just like his father. I prefer to get him tomorrow afternoon when he's a little more calm - in fact, when he's wiped out from all your excitement."

"I'll take the insanity," Castle grins. "When you and your dad are finished with these, come join us."

He leaves her at the sink and Kate turns to pick up where Castle left off, seeing her father laughing at her.

"Shut up," she sighs.

"It's just fun to see you completely out of your depth for once."

Kate gives him a sour look to keep from laughing; it does her no good to encourage him.

"All this Christmas. And you, such a Grinch."

"Leo..." Kate sighs again. "What can I do? He's as childish as Castle."

Her father laughs again, hands her a casserole dish to dry. "Well, he _is_ a child. I suppose that's what happens when you have a baby - you get a child."

"It's like I have _two_ of them."

"And you find yourself loving it," her father insists.

She puts away the casserole dish in the cabinet and bites her lip, turns back around to her father. "Didn't you miss it? Having... having this? The grief is there, Mom is - she's always here - but this..."

"I never imagined not having her here with us for this, and then when we didn't have her," her father shrugs, rinsing off a pot as if to collect his thoughts, "when she was gone, I couldn't imagine finding anything good in the holiday season ever again. But here we are."

Kate nods, her eyes straying towards the boy standing by his father. Leo's hand is against Castle's shoulder as Castle kneels by the tree; the multi-colored lights shadowing their faces. Leo's mouth is open in wonder and his long lashes are nearly blonde in the glow. He tilts his head towards Castle as if listening to whatever story his father is telling.

"Here we are," Kate whispers.

"Take what you can," her father suggests. "And then take a little more. That's my advice. Otherwise, honey, you're going to regret it later - what you didn't think you could handle but wished you had."

Kate takes the clean pot and dries it slowly with the hand towel, studying the burnished copper, the shine of metal. She hangs it on the rack and lets out a breath, steps up to the sink once more.

But her father pushes her away. "No, Katie. Last one for you. I get to do this and stay on the fringes during Christmas. But you're supposed to be in the middle of things. So get going."

He takes the drying towel from her, grips her elbow, pushes her towards the living room.

Martha and Alexis, even Pi, are hovering around the Christmas tree, exchanging gifts, picking up presents and pretending to shake them for Leo's benefit. The boy climbs into his father's arms and lunges for the biggest wrapped box at the back, Castle helping him pull it out.

Kate steps forward, away from the kitchen, but she already feels like she's on the outside looking in - always has when it comes to Christmas.

Last year, when Leo was eight months old, this was easier. There was less excitement, less reason for Castle to go crazy because she kept insisting that Leo wouldn't remember it. She had her way, basically, and then she had to apologize to him later, when she realized what she'd done - dampening his joy, suppressing all his natural enthusiasm. Leo had started walking that Christmas and _that_ is the memory she cherishes from the holiday.

She doesn't know _how_ to put herself inside the picture of the happy family, and so she hesitates at the back of the couch.

At that moment, Castle lifts his head and turns his gaze to her with a deep smile. "Kate. Come here."

And just with a few words, the closed scene opens to her, shifts to accommodate her presence, absorbing her before she even knows it's happening. She lays her hand at Castle's shoulder and he wraps his arm around her waist, tugs her down with them. Leo crawls into her arms and hangs around her neck, babbling in her ear about his _huge_ present, his _so many presents_, and Kate cups the back of his head.

A sudden bout of exhaustion must overcome him, because Leo lays down at her chest and sighs, eyes slipping closed.

"Merry Christmas, Kate," Castle laughs softly. "You got your wish - at least for a few seconds. Rowdy-free Christmas."

She shakes her head and kisses Leo's sweaty temple. "The rowdy, insane Christmas has kind of grown on me. Or it will. Eventually."

Castle reaches out and strokes Leo's cheek so that his lashes part and his eyes open. "Hey, Simba, you wanna open this big one?"

"Yeah, open. Open, Daddy. You help."

"Maybe we should let Mama help you, huh? Since you're not feeling so good."

"Mama, you," he says in return, nuzzling his hot face into her neck.

"Okay, little lion," she murmurs, kissing his cheek. "We'll do it together."

She reaches out for the big box, and his little hands follow hers, tearing at the paper. Leo crawls half out of her lap to get at it, and she has to catch him around the waist, laughing at his eagerness.

And then Kate feels Castle's eyes on her, and she shifts her attention to him. The weariness has melted from him; only joy remains.

They're doing it together.


	15. Inherited Traits

**Inherited Traits**

* * *

They danced inside the scattering of stars, the cosmos aligning, the dark sky stretching out into infinity. They danced on a beach with the palm trees shading them from the sun and the waves licking the sides of the ballroom.

They danced under the trellis inside the Botanic Gardens, the reflecting pool shimmering on their right, lily pads made practically velvet as their flowers bloomed in deep pink.

"This is no longer fiction," he murmured into her ear. He'd told her a story once, about what this day would look like, and he was making it into reality.

She felt his fingers at the bare skin of her back. "This is more," she whispered, but her voice trailed off because he had all the words.

She wriggled her fingers against his as they danced, her ring glittering in the illusionary sunlight and throwing sharp sparks of light along the dappled green vision.

And then the image shivered and shifted, warping into the next one in the slideshow, and they were-

"On the moon?" she laughed, tilting her head to see the moonscape past his shoulder. "You goofy man."

"I wanted to give you all our stories," he murmured, "on our wedding day."

She curled her fingers at the back of his neck and brought him in for a kiss, softly, keeping in mind their guests scattered across the dance floor.

His mouth was gentle at first, but it was like he couldn't help himself, like he'd given up trying to hold back. His tongue touched hers and he crushed her against him, heedless of her dress or the flower in his tux, their chests colliding.

A wolf whistle broke them apart - she knew that shrill sound and turned her head to glare in Javi's direction - but Castle kept her close despite that, and she felt her hips bumping his. Her eyes came back to trace the boyish lines of his smile, amusement and satisfaction both, and she couldn't even fault him for being proud.

He'd done good. So good.

She knew him - knew he wanted to make the grand gesture, make it everything for her on a day that might feel like she was missing something so important. And a December wedding had pulled all of her attention and focus from that gaping hole in her life- her missing mother - freeing her to a different sense of holiday. No longer was Christmas centered around trees her mother would never decorate with her, or gifts that would never give her father what he truly wanted.

She'd shopped for a dress with Lanie instead; she'd picked colors and looked at venues while the rest of the world jostled elbow to elbow inside Macy's and dreaded their families' visits.

Her white, sparkling lights were strung up along the aisle she'd walked to get to his side - not wrapped around a Christmas tree. Her decorations were pale and probably more girly than she'd admit to - not red and green and sporting jolly old men with beards.

This was their holiday; he'd given it back to her. She knew what he'd done for her; now she had the prospect of an anniversary that celebrated life instead of one that was mired in death. He'd chosen to do this for her even though it had taken away from his own.

"You're thinking too hard," he whispered.

She smiled and shook her head, brushing a kiss against his cheek to reassure him. "No. Only a little."

"Want me to tell you another one of our stories?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I like our stories."

"They seem to be prophetic," he said innocently.

She chuckled and curled her fingers at his ear, stroking the soft down of his ear lobe. He tilted his head away from her touch, leaned in to kiss her instead.

"They do seem prophetic," she murmured. "Tell me another one."

"One day," he began. The silence trailed between them in the wake of their slow steps, and she furrowed her brow and glanced at him, wondering.

"One day?"

"You fill in the rest, Kate. It's up to you."

"One day, I'll come home and find you asleep on the couch," she started, not sure where she was going. She brushed her lips against his jaw to delay her story, searched for words. "But when I hover over you, you'll wake."

"And kiss you."

"Hmm, sure. You can do that."

He laughed and his fingers feathered in her hair, a gesture that made her feel both exposed and so very known.

"You'll kiss me," she murmured. "And maybe I'll tell you right then. Unable to hold it back."

"How much you missed me?"

She grinned and averted her eyes, watching the moon on her horizon, the brilliant force of the stars he'd concocted just for her. "If that's what you want, Rick. Then yes. Sure. Maybe that's what I'll tell you."

Or maybe it would be other news.

"I would never have to wonder," he murmured against her ear. "Besides. Our mailman's a woman."

Kate laughed and tugged on his ear. "The mailman? Come on. I'd never throw you over for the mailman. Now the UPS guy..."

"Never," he gasped, but he was laughing too.

She was grateful to him for this - for how he made her laugh even when the day was heavy with meaning. How he made her smile even when she was missing her mother so fiercely. He'd been the one to arrange the whole wedding reception, and while - yes - she had cried alone in her dress before the ceremony had started, aching for her mom, she was happy.

She could see other couples crowding the floor, filling in the spaces as the song came to a close. It transitioned so naturally into the next, and she felt such peace right here, that she stayed in his arms, wouldn't step away to make the rounds of their guests as she knew they probably should.

He chuckled softly when she resisted letting go, but he drew her palm to his chest, leaving it there, and he leaned in to chastely kiss her lips. "I agree. Stay right here," he murmured. "I like this too much to have it be over so soon. First dance should be longer."

"Think so too," she admitted, glad he'd said it first. "Though you do realize we've danced six or seven first dances so far?"

He rumbled with laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners, but he still didn't let her go.

She could see Alexis at the edge of the crowd with Martha, watching them with joy, and Kate's heart lifted and stumbled. His grown-up, little girl. The girl he chose.

"Next dance should be with your daughter," she said to him, softly.

Castle tightened his arm around her waist, brushed his kiss to her temple. "Most wouldn't be so good," he said. She could hear it in his voice, how that had caught him unaware. "Kate. Most wouldn't understand."

"Of course I understand."

He'd chosen Alexis. His choice - to be this girl's father - had been the key to all of it, had shown Kate the way forward and had pushed her to claim him as well.

"Were you crying - before?" he said into her ear.

When she'd walked down the aisle alone, he must have seen her tears. She hadn't wanted her father to give her away, not when she wasn't going anywhere, not when she'd already lost too much of her family. This was a day about choosing to add to her family, to do this with Castle, to join and blend and complement each other. And while she had allowed herself a moment of tears, a chance to dwell in her mother's absence, she'd walked down that aisle _towards_ something. Toward him. And so honored her mother's presence.

Castle had taught her this. How to _choose_ it, every day. How to create her own family out of the love she had available, building it, strengthening those relationships instead of her walls.

"Yes, I cried." It wasn't even a confession. "But you've made it - I'm good here. This is beautiful and it makes me hurt, but it's the thing that makes it so very special. We've created this and I'm proud of it."

"I understand," he echoed her. His dance steps were slow, practically not moving, and his thumb stroked at the cup made by the palm of her hand. "Do you think I should tell Alexis the truth? Do you think it's selfish of me to want to keep her?"

"Castle," she sighed, couldn't help feeling that somehow it was herself he talked about. But it wasn't; they weren't about keeping. "It's not selfish. And maybe - maybe there comes a day when you'll have to tell her but those facts of biology won't be the _truth_. The truth is that you're her father. This is our family now."

He kissed her for that, softly, pride and love in his touch.

He'd chosen it - family. Kate had learned to do the same. She wouldn't let that be taken apart, dismantled before her very eyes by a few doubts.

His thumb brushed over hers. "But maybe she ought to know..."

"It would only be facts," she said, stroking the soft hair at his nape as the walls of the ballroom began to shimmer with Parisian lights. Beautiful. "It wouldn't be true - that she's not yours. Because she is yours."

"Thank you," he croaked, his forehead turning in to rest against hers. "I... never had someone to share - her - this - with."

Kate wrapped her other arm around his neck as well, pressed closer, letting their breaths skate warmly across cheeks, dwelling in the way they both had built this, brick by brick.

"Thank you for this," she said finally. "Even my dad is smiling today."

She could feel Castle's _you're welcome_ kiss at her cheek, how he was grateful to change the subject; she'd just done for him what he'd spent all reception doing for her - beautiful distraction, joy out of mourning. Kate rested her chin on his shoulder to watch the landscapes he'd designed for them from all of his stories.

The slideshow that projected their images had filled the room with underwater bubbles, a colorful school of tropical fish, a dart of a shadow across the ocean floor. A shark came in close and a few people actually shrieked; Castle laughed, goofy and pleased with himself, and she tilted back to look at him.

"A shark."

"A shark," he grinned. "Hey, it's on my bucket list. Along with you - being with you."

"I better be _first_ on that list," she said.

"First and last, Kate. I choose you."

She smiled back at him, heart lifting, but a flicker past his shoulder arrested her attention. The images had changed. Now they were deep inside a winter forest, dark branches silver in the moonlight, the evergreen boughs bowed with snow. Far off, a wolf slinked through the trees, smoke rose from some unseen chimney, and the room was hushed.

She took a startled breath when snow began to sift down over them all, laying lightly along their shoulders and touching her lashes and lips, settling in the hollow of her collarbones and laying in the folds of her skirt before falling to the floor.

Snow.

Well, of course not snow, but _snow._

"Oh, this is... Gorgeous."

She felt his fingers squeeze around her own and she glanced back to him, caught in the magic.

"It won't ruin the dress," he said. "I promise."

"I wouldn't even care," she said. "It's beautiful. I don't know how you - how did you do this?"

He only smiled at her, this one not cocky or pleased or charming, just _him_. Joyful because she was joyful. The first snow of the year - inside their wedding reception.

"No, don't tell me," she said, changing her mind. "Let me just... be amazed."

"I love you," he said quietly, his eyes creasing in his smile.

"I love you, too," she said, shifting her gaze to the dark ceiling overhead so she could watch the snow's soft benediction. And then she lowered her eyes to his, caressed his cheek with her hand. "I choose you."


	16. That Familiar Feeling - Ch One

**That Familiar Feeling**

* * *

She feels their bed bounce and glances up from her book in time to catch sight of him reaching for her ankles.

"What are you doing?" she laughs. It's nearly a giggle, but she smothers it quickly and jerks her foot out of his grasp. "What are you doing to my foot?"

"I'm writing. Give it back."

She laughs again but he snags her ankle and drags her foot down the bed towards him. His lips caress the arch of her foot and she gasps, rising up from their bed to stare at him. "That does not feel like writing."

"It is to me. A new genre - erotica."

She wriggles her toes into his grip and tries to ignore the heat that bursts under her skin at the rich rumble of his words. He grins like he knows he's getting away with it, so she hooks her leg around his neck and pulls, dragging them together slowly, inexorably. His cocky attitude disappears behind that icy smoke of his eyes and he crawls up her body to lay over her, insistent and dominating.

She would flip him over, but she'd lose her place in the novel. _That's all._

"You adore my book," he growls at her ear, teeth nipping. "I adore you."

"Does one follow the other?" she says archly, closing her eyes against need, refusing to let it have her.

"Does one?" he muses, skimming his lips along her jaw. His breath electrifies her skin, makes her body come alive. It takes everything in her to keep from pressing up into him. "I believe one does follow the other. But for the life of me, Beckett, I can't imagine which comes first."

"Usually me," she says, lifting her lashes to look at him. He laughs and nods his head like she's scored, and she grins back, abandons his book to wrap her arms around his neck. "Is that what we're doing now?"

"If you have to ask, I'm not doing it right."

"Sometimes you're doing it without meaning to," she admits, lifting her neck to softly kiss his lips. He makes a noise against her that has her hips rising into his, but he lays a hand against her torso and pulls away.

"Didn't mean to. Not really," he says, smiling at her. He flops onto his back and lifts her arm, the book in her hand. "Read. I'd rather you read it than - Well... no, that's not true. But I want you to finish the book - she's your character as much as she's mine and it has to be right."

"It's not like you'll change anything," she laughs. "Tessa Wilde. I _begged_ you to change that name."

"You did _not_ beg me. If you had, she'd be any name you like."

Kate narrows her eyes at him and rolls onto her stomach, their sides touching, and she props herself up on her elbows, opens the publisher's galley again. "I do like it. But _Into the __Wilde?_ I mean - it's catchy; I'll give you that. And it's fast-paced-"

He groans and throws his arm over his eyes. "That sounds like a polite way of not telling me it's awful."

"Castle, this is your _fourth_. You're acting like I've never read your books, like this is the first time Tessa and I have met."

"Oh, it's terrible, isn't it?" he moans, still talking into his arm. "I knew it. It was a rush job, Kate, because we got married and then the honeymoon and then Alexis moving to the dorms, and-"

Kate pushes a hand to his chest and hovers over him, tugging his arm away with a laugh. "No, Castle. Seriously. Stop that. Come on. It's _good_. It got me from the first page. I'm sucked in. I always am - and surprised, all over again, by how you capture me."

He drops his arm and looks at her, so much hesitance on his face, so much raw vulnerability about the words. "Really? I capture you?"

"Really," she says softly. She's always surprised by this side of him, surprised when he doesn't have the ego to back up his melodramatic, grandiose statements. Kate leans in and brushes a kiss to the corner of his eye, the lines where his worry collects and makes rivers.

"Read," he insists. "I'll... go. Over there."

"No, no, you can stay."

"I can't watch you while you read my book," he grumbles. He shifts away from her and untangles himself from the bed, stands in front of her for a moment with that anxious hope in his eyes. "Even if it is the fourth."

"Go meet up with Alexis. Take her for ice cream. Something. You're going to drive me crazy like that."

"Yeah. Ice cream. In the winter? No, sure, of course. See you in an hour or so." He says all this in a rush, like he's convincing himself, heading for the door. Then he stops and pauses just past the threshold, turns back to her. "Will you be done in an hour?"

"No, Castle. I _just_ started. Someone keeps interrupting me."

He ducks his head and leaves her to it.

* * *

When Castle tells his daughter good-bye at the corner, he can already feel his phone vibrating inside his jacket pocket. Alexis tosses a wave over her shoulder and disappears into the holiday shopping crowd. He slips out his phone and answers his wife's call.

"You finish it?" he says first.

"Finished. Now I want to go to Paris, see the lights. You going to take me?"

He laughs and the restriction in his chest eases. "Does that mean you liked it?"

"I loved it. Do you want me to quote my favorite passages?"

"Not when I'm in public," he rumbles, letting his voice drift into the lower range. He knows what that does to her. "But the second I get home-"

"Promises, promises, Writer-Man."

He laughs at that, surprised by the nickname, and he crosses the street against traffic, keeping his eyes open for cars. "Hey, I'm close. Just said good-bye to Alexis. You want to go to Paris? Let's go."

"No," she gasps. "I'm kidding. Actually, scratch that. I would love to go to Paris with you, but not right now. I have to... I was thinking we could go to DC this weekend."

"Oh?" That's off his radar. "DC? Why there?"

"It's beautiful at Christmas. At the Harbor they do those massive ice sculptures, and the National Tree is lit up, has live music. I want to - find some cheer. With you. You want to?"

"This weekend, huh?" He doesn't tell her that he found the boarding pass for a DC flight dated two weeks ago. He wasn't trying to snoop; it was in the pocket of her dress pants and he took all their stuff to the dry cleaners and thought to check. "Why DC?"

"Just. Get out of my mother's city," she says quietly.

Maybe that's all she was doing before, but a flight alone to weeks ago? Sometimes he doesn't understand her. Sometimes he thinks - because of Tessa Wilde - that he's got Kate figured out. But she's always going to be a mystery. Usually that's a good thing, but sometimes it comes up to bite him.

"All right," he agrees, pausing in front of her favorite coffee place. Being out of sync with Beckett makes him nervous, he knows, makes him uncertain about the book, makes him buy her things, agree without protest. "DC for the weekend. Should be fun. And hey, no shop talk. What do you say?"

"Oh," she breathes. "That would be heaven. Thank you."

"I'm stopping for coffee before I come back. Want me to bring you something?"

"Are you at Bowery?" she asks, sounding sinfully sensual over the phone.

"Yes. Of course. I wouldn't offer you sub-par espresso, Beckett."

"Mmm, yes, please. You know my order."

"I certainly do."

"Hurry home, lover."

Castle chuckles and ends the call, stepping out of the wind and into Bowery Coffee. She might be taking spur of the moment trips to DC, but her mother _is_ the mayor of New York. They aren't exactly anonymous here - what with his celebrity bestseller status and her mother's widespread public appeal. She's right, actually. It will be nice to be in DC for the weekend, be silly and have fun and capture some magic for themselves.

An older woman behind him in line lightly touches his sleeve, that _I think I know you _look on her face. "I'm sorry, but are you...?"

He puts a smile on his face, wondering which book series she's going to talk off his ear about. "Yes, ma'am-"

"Oh, the mayor's son-in-law. I thought so. I voted for her, you know. Her story of overcoming such personal tragedy is just... oh, breaks my heart. And her daughter must - I'm so glad she has a good man."

Castle gives a tight smile. "Thank you."

Yeah, the city is feeling pretty crowded right about now.

* * *

With every mile farther from New York, Kate Beckett seems to melt.

She sits close to him, the arm rests pushed up between their seats, their arms brushing as she gets settled. Eventually, she's leaning her cheek against his shoulder and reading on her ipad, her free hand on his thigh and making slow, aimless designs.

Castle can't concentrate. He's brought a manuscript that Black Pawn has been trying to force him to read for the last few months, and of course it can't even begin to hold his interest like Beckett. Who is Alex Conrad in comparison to his strong, sensual, softly alluring wife?

He presses a kiss to the top of her head and closes his eyes, imagining he'll rest like this for the short flight, let himself dwell in this state of suspension. Whatever issues she's dealing with about her mother - and she will always have issues - whatever her sudden need to hide out in DC, those things seem far from this moment.

It's nearly Christmas. Castle has always found that the holiday season seeped into every aspect of his days in December. The lights, the sounds, the politeness from strangers, the kindness of co-workers, the way he and Alexis always opened up their two-person world and welcomed friends to become family for a season, these things snowball during the month and crown the year with glory.

It's not the same for Beckett, and he tries to be cautious of that, protective of her, but he thinks they've worked to a place where they can both celebrate their family even while they remember her father.

When the plane lands, he's startled from his doze - enough so that Kate laughs at him, her hands cradling his face and her kiss soft and sweet.

"Didn't know you fell asleep, did you?" she murmurs.

"No. I - Huh."

"I don't think it says much for-" Here she picks up the book spread open on his thigh, reads the cover. "-Doesn't say much for Alex Conrad that you keep putting this off."

"Or that I fell asleep?" he smiles.

"Or that. You realize your publisher has been calling _me_ to get you to meet with the poor guy?"

"No," he sighs. "Really?" Ugh, if Gina has roped Kate into convincing him, he'll probably be forced to meet the kid for breakfast or something.

"I told Gina that it's not up to me - your career is your choice. This is your decision, Castle. If you don't want to do it - don't do it. But it has nothing to do with me."

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm sorry she's called you. But I ought to meet up with the kid, give him some feedback. I feel I owe - I owe the Universe to pay it forward. Show a guy like Alex, just starting out, the same courtesies I wish _I'd_ been shown. I mean, Kate, you let me follow you around the halls of the justice system. He doesn't even have that."

"Up to you, Rick. I'm not influencing you, one way or another."

"Except," he chuckles. "You kinda are. Just mentioning it."

She gives him a look for that, but the fasten seat belt light goes out and everyone around them starts rising, shifting to look for bags and jostling for a place in line. Castle and Beckett always have disembarked the same way, a fact that has always pleased him in some deep and wordless place inside him, and so they remain seated, waiting it out, still softly talking.

"I don't think I have any say in what you do or don't do with your career, Castle."

"But you do," he argues. "Not because it's your right or because you're telling me what to do, but because you're my friend. I want to know what you think."

Her mouth drops open and her cheeks flush; she looks sleepy-eyed, like she might have napped herself, and this combination of her surprise and her trembling tiredness makes her gorgeous.

And it gives him visions. As it always does when he catches her in an unguarded moment. Beckett is so often the woman of layers, the heart protected by all the masks of her profession and the fortress of her coping skills, that when he finds her like this - her true, inviolate self - he can't help imagining their future.

It may never happen, this might be the same picture in ten years' time, but he likes to write the story. Even if he's only telling it to himself.

"You're my friend too," she says finally. "I never thought of it like that."

"What? Marriage?"

She shakes her head. "My job."

"I'm kind of lost," he admits, smiling at her. "I know you don't love your job, but I hope _you_ know that you can do anything you want, Kate. Anything. We have the luxury of time and money."

Her fingers come out and encircle his wrist; he shifts closer to her to keep out of the press of people into the aisle.

Her eyes are as round and far away as dark moons, but with her fingers she traces words onto the inside of his forearm, an old habit with them that means, essentially, _I love you._

He wrote all over her once in a taxi and then again in their bed when he proposed, and now the scroll of her finger in loops of cursive over his skin spans the best of their history, reminds them both that their story is still being written.


	17. That Familiar Feeling - Ch Two

**That Familiar Feeling**

* * *

Castle has to stop and shed his coat. The weather is balmy with a touch of humidity that settles over his shoulders and keeps the wind at bay. With his coat under one arm, he takes Kate's hand and they wander across the Mall, stopping from time to time along the edge of the Reflecting Pool.

"What next?" he says.

"They lit the tree Friday night," Kate admits. "We missed it."

"Where is it?" he says, steering them towards the World War II Memorial, their backs to Lincoln. "I thought it was by the Reflecting Pool."

"No, it's in front of the White House. Over there." She points off to their left, across Constitution Avenue. "We could head that direction."

"Yeah," he says, smiling gently at her. They've spent the afternoon meandering through the memorials and monuments, absorbing history and heroes, being reminded of the fallen and paying tribute to what's gone before them.

He feels like she's been showing off the city to him - and he's been here before. A hundred times or more. DC is a stop on the book tour and close enough to New York that they've come themselves for his mother's productions or special events. He doesn't quite understand what they're supposed to be doing this weekend, other than hiding out.

"Kate," he nudges her. She rouses and smiles back at him, the water from the circular fountain rushing in their ears. "Kate, what's going on?"

"Just... thoughtful today," she says. "Don't worry about it."

They wordlessly circle the fountain, heading for the fifty-six pillars that ring the memorial. The triumphal arches soar over their heads as they walk underneath; the other visitors are hushed in reverent respect in this space.

It's impossible not to remember the accounts of the beaches at Normandy, to recall the Holocaust museum's preservation of a world's terrible heritage. The white, stark pillars are a reminder of good defeating evil - but also that evil still exists.

His heart feels heavy here. He reaches out and lays his hand on her shoulder, draws her against him. Even though Kate's not one for public displays, she wraps her arm around his waist and leans against his torso, a sighing breath ghosting his neck.

"You gonna be okay, Kate?"

"Yeah," she says, admitting to both her not being okay and also that she's trying.

All he can ask. He used to believe that any problem could be solved because he had the money to do anything or go anywhere. He used to think that whatever grief Kate carried would be magically fixed by - well, by _him._

But the war memorial is a testament to the battle, to taking a stand and digging in - the work it takes to carve out a better future. He wishes that marriage was easier for them, that the workload wasn't sometimes so heavy on her, but at least she has him to stand with her.

"Hey, enough," she murmurs. Her kiss is quick and fierce. "Let's go see the tree, and then - I don't know. The spy museum. Something fun."

He grins and kisses her back, winks. "You're right. Fun. Let's go."

* * *

While hanging around the tree trying to decide what to do next, Kate can't help watching a little family crowding near the fence. The mother of the girl is consulting something on her phone and giving the father directions while their daughter hops over the lines in the sidewalk and sings Christmas songs. Mis-worded _Away in a Manger_ over and over from a four year old isn't the height of entertainment, but Kate nudges Rick and nods to them.

He chuckles and slides closer, tugging her after him, pretending they are merely circling the tree to get a better look. They wind up behind the family, the little girl stopping suddenly and glancing up at Castle. Her cheeks flush and she spins back around to her parents.

"Zoo Lights now? Please, Daddy."

Kate laughs and turns to Castle. "You scared her."

"I think I did. Oops." His eyes are on the girl. "When Alexis was that age, we used to go to the aquarium almost every day. She loved the walruses."

Kate smiles at the thought. "Walruses. Interesting choice."

"She would wake me up early and crawl into bed with that same little face. _Please, Daddy?_ It must be like a little girl's deadliest weapon."

She winds her arms around his neck and presses her mouth against his, lets her fingers run through his hair in that way that makes him shiver. When she slides down his chest and is flat-footed once more, she bats her eyes at him and tilts her head.

"Can we go see the Zoo Lights too? Please-"

"If you call me Daddy, Kate Beckett, I will spank you."

She laughs brightly into the afternoon light, tightens her hold around his neck and leans in to brush her mouth to his ear. "Is that supposed to deter me, kitten?"

* * *

The National Zoo is packed with people; free admission means every exhibit draws a crowd and each attraction is overrun. Castle bumps into another patron and apologizes, tries to follow Kate past the zoo train that's unloading passengers and spilling out into the walkway.

"Hey," he says, catching sight of something else entirely. "Kate. Over there."

As the light has faded, the air has sharpened, and they've been trying to find the hot chocolate cart that's been selling delicious, rich-smelling drinks that everyone's been carrying around.

"You see it?" she says, pausing to let him catch up.

"No, actually. But something better," he grins. She glances the way he's looking, but he takes her hand and starts hauling her along after him, not giving her a chance to protest. He caught sight of something earlier, a banner for the attraction, but he's been looking for an hour and not found it. He didn't want to say anything in case...

"A slide?" she says, pausing.

"Kate," he warns. "Come on. It's a snow tube."

"I don't see any snow."

"Remember our honeymoon?" he insists. "Australia. The-"

"Castle," she murmurs, shifting to look at him. "That was an alpine slide and-"

"-one of the most intense, amazing thrill rides of your life," he interrupts. "Other than our wedding night."

She laughs at that, shaking her head at him, and it budges her just enough to get them moving again. He pulls her towards the line for the snow tube - a long slide, yes, but straight down Tiger Hill. It looks like _fun_ and they need some fun.

* * *

Kate lets go and screams down the track as they shoot forward on the slide, laughing as they seem to careen out of control at the end. Castle falls over her, his arms loosening now, and she takes a breath and untangles from him. She stands, holding out a hand.

Castle grins and takes it, coming slowly as his knees pop.

She tugs. "Can we go again?"

"That was our fourth run," he laughs. "Aren't you freezing?"

"_Yes_," she says with relish. "Freezing. And it's awesome."

Awesome, huh? "All right, let's go again."

He gives their slide to the worker at the end of the run, and they head back up the hill, hand in hand, her excitement palpable. Her hair is loose and she bounces on her toes, drags them to the back of the line. "Ooh, hey. I could use some hot chocolate, Castle. Wanna get me some?"

"No." He laughs at the face she makes him. "Fine. I'll get you some hot chocolate-"

"No, wait. I'll get it. You hold our place." She lifts up and kisses him, her fists gripping his coat and giving him a little shake. "Love you, Rick."

And then she's off, slipping down the hill through the crowd, her hair reflecting the Christmas lights that are beginning to glow.

* * *

They take the snow tube ten times before the lights display catches her attention, and then she's taking him around the National Zoo, exhibit to exhibit, the sparkle of green and white and red like an art form.

Night has fallen over DC and the crowd has only increased, but there are so many families, children excited and noisy, that it pulls everyone else into the spirit of the holiday too. They stand before the elephant sanctuary in the brilliant glow of an intricately-lit and mammoth depiction of an African elephant, and Castle touches Kate's hair softly, tucking it behind her ear.

She turns suddenly into him and wraps her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

"What did I do?"

"This," she murmurs. "I'm working through something, Rick, and I know I get morose and closed off but you just keep at it. You keep reaching for me."

"I always will," he promises. And it's no light thing; it carries the weight of the last few years' worth of work. He knows now what it is to reach for her and sometimes not find her, and he accepts it. Her father's death changed her; she's a complicated - beautiful - woman and he will always keep working towards her.

"I just - I've wanted to get out of New York for a while," she murmurs. "I thought this was the place, that it would be different, and it is. But instead of shedding my mother's influence, it feels like I've run straight to my father's legacy. And I don't know that I... can do it."

Her father died a hero, but he died - just like the soldiers killed in action overseas during the war that the memorial commemorates. This whole city is built around honoring the sacrifice of those who've gone before, an ever present reminder of what is lost, but also what has been formed from those sacrifices.

It's still death, still a tragedy, but he hopes that he can - at all - be a reminder and a testament to her of what the future holds, of how good life can be because they fought those battles.

"We don't have to stay. We can go home tonight, Kate," he says. "We'll grab our stuff from the hotel and we'll take whatever flight we can get. Or we'll rent a car and drive. Take the train."

She shivers. "Yes."

"Yes?" he echoes. He's surprised she's agreeing, surprised she's not setting her jaw and plowing forward in spite of the body blows. "Okay. All right. Let's see if we can't catch the last flight of the evening."

"Take me home, Castle."


	18. That Familiar Feeling - Final Chapter

**That Familiar Feeling**

* * *

It's nearly midnight when their flight touches down in New York City's JFK Airport. Kate knows she should have talked to him, but every time she thought she had the words, they deserted her.

She keeps meaning to tell him about it, but the idea of it is so out there, so crazy, that it doesn't yet seem real to her. Four Wilde books later, Castle can pretty much write these in his sleep, even though Kate is sitting counselor for the Mayor of New York and no longer a prosecutor like her namesake, Tessa. So she's certain that it wouldn't create havoc with his writing.

But still, she hesitates.

The Attorney General. She can't imagine.

With Alexis in college though, it does seem like the perfect opportunity. She just can't adjust herself to thinking about what it does to their life together. And Castle, since his tattooed proposal across her skin, has never once mentioned having children.

Kate knows these are things they should be talking about, but she hasn't wanted to rock the boat. It's so _good _between them that she's tempted to ignore the offer entirely and pretend it never happened, but she's... miserable. She's miserable working for her mother, and this isn't what she wants to do, and she just doesn't _know_ what will be better. No job is going to bring back her father, the hero who took a bullet to save a mother and little girl inside a convenience store. No career's crusade is going to give her what's she missing.

But Castle. He has somehow made it okay. He fills in her cracks, complements her, and honestly, she's still not sure how to be part of a team like that, how to fit, how to be partners. She keeps trying, but she so often feels like she's failing at everything - and most especially at her job. It's a switch for her - her career has always been the thing she excelled at.

So if Kate is subsumed into the world of Tessa Wilde, then she will vicariously live out that certainty of will and singularity of purpose. That Castle sees her like this is sometimes bewildering, but if he translates the determination and passion of her personal life into Tessa Wilde's professional crusade, then she doesn't mind giving the world that appearance.

But it does mean she's at a loss, and sometimes she envies Tessa's unwavering conviction.

The Attorney General. It would be investigative, and that's always where her heart has lain, but it's the Attorney General. And today has shown her so clearly what happens to her when her personal life is rocky but her professional life is set - it's no good.

It does her no good.

Castle takes her elbow and nods towards baggage claim, striding ahead of her and seemingly content that she'll follow. She's surprised by how embracing it feels to be in the city once more, how just the geography of the place has made her heart settle.

He calls the car service from baggage claim while Kate tugs their suitcase off the carousel. She presses her hand to his back to indicate she has it, and he glances at her and starts moving for the doors. Kate pulls the suitcase behind her and makes a fist in his coat to keep him from getting lost; he always gets distracted on his phone.

Once outside, she nods towards the far end of the pick-up lanes, and he follows her, ends the call. "They got my earlier message and should be here in five."

"You should text Alexis. Tell her we're back."

"Oh, good idea," he murmurs, taking his phone back out.

She leads him towards a clearer section, away from other travelers, and finally stands at the sidewalk with his coat in her fist. He grins at the screen of his phone, something Alexis has messaged him probably, and she watches the florescent lights limn his hair and deepen the shadows at his eyes.

"Alexis says hi to her evil step-mother," Castle says, lifting his gaze to hers. "She's in a rare mood."

"She's studying for exams," Kate reminds him. "I bet she's been up all hours, no sleep. She gets a little goofy. Like her father."

He grins - he's proud of that of course - and pockets his phone again. "So. You wanna do the same?"

"Pull an all-nighter?"

"Yup. We could watch movies in the study and I could make my famous hot chocolate."

"Oh," she softens. "That sounds good, actually." She releases his coat and smooths down the lapel. "What are we studying, Castle?"

"I know what I'm studying," he leers.

"You don't need to study," she whispers, coming in closer. "You're already quite proficient."

Castle laughs and presses his lips against hers, warm in the cold winter air. "It helps that you're so good at stroking my ego."

* * *

Finally at home, Castle grabs their luggage from her and brings it back into their bedroom, calling out for her to start a bath and get ready for movie marathon night. He's grinning as he hastily unpacks, thinking about maybe a John Woo retrospective or even giving in to her and suffering through romantic comedies.

He jumps when her hands land on his waist; he straightens up and turns away from the suitcase on the bed, takes her in his arms. "Hey." His grin falters when he sees the look on her face. "If you're too tired, babe, we don't-"

"It's not that," she says. "I... have a confession."

He squeezes her shoulders and lets her go when she tugs away from him, waiting on her to speak the words she's probably been wanting to say all day long.

"I was offered a job," she starts.

"Hey, cool-"

She shoots him a discomfited look and it stops him cold.

"You were offered a job," he repeats.

"With the Attorney General's office," she whispers. "I had an interview two weeks ago. They want me to start on Monday."

"Monday." He gives her a crooked smile, trying to battle back the reflexive hurt that rises in his throat. "Well. That's better, right? I know you don't love working for your mom. And you've wanted that job on the Investigative team of the District Attorney so this is-"

"This is the Attorney General in DC, Castle."

He stares at her and slumps down to their bed. His throat closes up but he clears it a few times, rubs his hand over his jaw as the silence stretches on. He needs to find the exact right words, but he's got nothing. "Am I - supposed to say something here?"

"I..."

"Because it sounds like you've already got things worked out without me, Kate. You didn't even _tell_ me about this. I found your boarding pass last week, to DC - that's what that was. And now you tell me - today? That was what - trying to butter me up for this news? Drag me around your new home?"

She stares at him for a heartbeat too long and he closes his eyes, not even surprised.

He's not even surprised. He knew something was going on, knew she was pulling away from him, that their marriage was work. Still. This-

"No."

He lifts his head, the bleakness in his heart seeping out of him.

"No, Castle. I'm not going to take the job."

He opens his mouth but the words are completely gone. If she thought _that_ was supposed to comfort him, he can't say it's working.

"I didn't know," she continues. "I thought - Castle, I _hate_ my job. I can't stand this - being purposeless and unrooted. I've always been focused on my professional life and now - now it's a mess. Nothing is good enough any more. Because of you."

"Because of - me?"

"Your books have-"

"Knock it off, Kate. That's an excuse. My _books_?"

"It's not an excuse; it's the truth. Tessa Wilde knows what her life is for, Castle. She has _purpose. _You write her with such conviction about the world and the bad in it. I haven't had that in a long time. I wanted it back."

"So DC?"

She lifts her hand and scrapes it through her hair, her brows knitting together. "DC was awful."

He sits up straighter.

"I hated it today, Castle. I hated it. I didn't have fun until... you. Pushing me on the slide, making me see the lighter side of things. And I remembered all over again how we work - what made me fall in love with you at the beginning."

"You were going to leave me here and take that job in DC," he whispers, his guts falling out.

"No," she gasps. "No, Castle. I was going to move you down there with me." She pushes forward to clutch his shoulders. "Never gonna leave. Rick. Believe me."

"Why didn't you tell me until now?"

"I didn't know what I wanted. I thought if I could get away from my mother's sphere of influence, find my own place - but what I found instead were all these reminders of my father."

"Fallen heroes," he murmurs. Her gaze cuts to his with a grief that brings him to his feet, drawing his arms around her. "Oh, Kate. I know-"

"No, you don't know. You've only seen me post-grief counseling and with weekly therapy sessions, Castle. You haven't seen how... it can swallow me whole."

"Your dad wouldn't want that."

"I know. I know all the right phrases and the therapy jargon. I've gone over it again and again, but until you, Castle, it never mattered. If it weren't for you, I probably would take this job and be devoured by it before I even knew what I'd done."

He tightens his hold on her as if that can keep her with him. He doesn't want to think about a Kate Beckett with _less_ ability to crawl out of that hole, but she's right. He didn't know that woman - before his time - but he never wants her to go back there.

Just the few things her mother has said to him, her _gratitude_ to him when they first started dating, tells him that it was bad.

"DC reminds me of my father, Castle, but in all the bad ways. The ways that make me obsessive and dark. I can't do it. I'm going to call them tomorrow and reject their offer."

He presses his mouth to her temple, closes his eyes. "Kate, if you need to go on interviews or travel the world - or whatever it takes - you can do that. I just want to be there for it."

"I know. I wanted - I don't know. To see if I worked outside of New York. To see if we did."

"We work," he insists. "You and I work, Kate, because we do the work. Like this. Right here. Having a conversation."

"I'm kind of terrible at that," she admits, her forehead pressing to his neck. "I thought it was about my mother and that drives me crazy because I know it's not _true_, that she loves me, that it's not a competition, but when we got there today..."

"It was bad. I know."

"It was all wrong. And when our plane landed at JFK, this was home. This was right. I thought I needed to know what comes next, but I was looking at my life the wrong way. This - you and I - we come next. I forgot that in the process of job interviews and trying to figure out my professional life. I forgot that it's not my _life_."

"We come next," he sighs. "I like that."

"I don't want to move to DC, Rick. But if I did, it would be with you, and it would after we decided together. Not me alone. I never meant to do it alone."

He lets out a long breath, relief pouring into his hollow places. "Then _tell me_ these things."

She curls her fingers at his neck and her kiss is soft, hesitant along his jaw; it's the best promise he's going to get. He lets her make amends, penitent on her way to the altar of his mouth, before he gives way and cradles her face in his hands, kisses her back.

It's delicate and it's affirming, his tongue touching hers and their breaths mingling. He pauses to look into her eyes and she stares back at him.

"You still want to do that movie marathon with me?" she whispers.

"Always."


	19. Bucket List - Chapter One

**Bucket List**

* * *

"I want to take you somewhere," she whispers.

Castle runs his hands along her ribs and up her back, smoothing and sensitizing, feeling the friction of their skins together. "I like it right here."

"For New Year's," she says, her mouth turning to his chest and kissing. A nip of her teeth and then she presses her palm there, as if to seal it over, heal him. "I want us to go somewhere together for New Year's."

"Okay." He gives in so easily to her; he can't help himself.

"Okay?" she laughs. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," he grins. And then reality slides in. "Oh. Well. Alexis and her boyfriend are here - Pi. I just... and we usually do a party and I should probably-"

"I know," she interrupts. "That's why I'm asking. I want it to be just us. For the beginning of the year. Start us right."

He stills and glances down at her. He's been so very bad about allowing her space and time. He doesn't doubt she's in this with him, but he forgets that she's _Beckett_. He knows he's got to find ways to meet her needs too, or this isn't going to work. She's the one who's always giving, always compromising her own ideas to follow his plan.

His bucket list, his jumping ahead of things, his pushing her. Faster isn't always better. And he wants them to make it to number fifty - _Have a marriage that lasts._

"Okay," he says finally. "Take me away with you for New Year's."

Her eyes flood with that fathomless darkness - the deep of the universe all in one gaze - and she lifts up to press her mouth to his, her gratitude more desperate than it should be.

He'll do better by her; he will. He promised to wait until she was ready and instead he dove straight in and started crossing lines.

But he can be what she needs; he can tread water with her for a little while yet, give them a chance to catch their breaths.

* * *

As Kate disembarks from the fifteen-seater plane and steps out onto the tarmac, the wind buffets her with a icy blast. Behind her, Castle yelps and stumbles into her back, clutching her for balance.

"Wow, that's cold," he chatters, teeth rattling. His hands, seemingly of their own accord, seek her through the buttons of her coat, pressing against her sweater as if for warmth.

Kate grips one wrist and squeezes, tilts her head back to look at him. "I'm just as cold as you are and you're stealing all my body heat, Castle. Put on a pair of gloves."

"Ooh, Body Heat. Now _there's_ a Nikki book title."

"Not on your life."

He makes a face at her, but withdraws his hands, searches for his leather gloves in his coat pockets. He has _nice_ gloves too, heated gloves, so he shouldn't be undoing her coat in the middle of an Alaskan winter night.

"Come on," she says. "We're supposed to follow the yellow lines into the airport." The wind knocks into them again and they both shiver, walking more quickly now for the glowing doors and the airport's beckoning warmth.

Anchorage, Alaska. She picked it at random - a google search for the elements she required and this was the city that popped up first. There are tours, but she hopes to avoid that; instead, she thinks if they wait - if they can be patient - it will come. Natural, spontaneous.

"Where are we going?" he mumbles. "Wow, it's cold. It is _cold_ out here, Kate."

"Hurry up, then." She glances back as Castle slings his carryon bag over his shoulder. "Once we get our suitcase, we need to find the bus for Sheep Mountain Lodge."

"Right, Sheep Mountain. I hope you're not planning on a nature walk, because it is _freezing_."

"You sure do complain a lot," she grumbles back, knocking her shoulder into his and sending him skidding through the frost on the tarmac. An airport worker in a thick, bright orange jumpsuit yells at him to get back in the designated area, waving his brightly colored wand at Castle. Kate laughs and reaches out, pinching the sleeve of his coat to guide him back between the yellow lines.

"Your fault," he mutters under his breath. "If they arrest me, it's _all your fault_."

"Sure, sure," she soothes, laughing again. "It's all my fault, Castle. Come on. I want to get inside where it's warm."

* * *

All Castle knows is that they're here for five days. Sheep Mountain Lodge in Glacier View, Alaska, with nordic tracks and 'all the amenities of home,' the sign boasts.

At least the lobby has a massive central fireplace.

And Kate. It has Kate.

It's also _so_ far off the beaten path that he can't imagine making it for long - he needs people and the city and lights - and while he's willing to be better for her, entirely up for it, he's really going to have to curtail his impatience.

He can get immature. He's not sure if she _knows_ that about him, but... sometimes he can be a child when he's bored.

Right.

She checks them in at the front desk, the entire thing built of wood, massive logs with red plaid accent. Nothing about this place is formal or even elegant - the woman at the desk is dressed in jeans and a down vest, her knit hat resting on the counter beside her. He notices her chapped fingers and the way her cuticles have frayed, the ridges on her knuckles from work.

These are not his people.

Kate wraps her fingers around his bicep, catching his attention, and asks him to get her a cup of coffee from the dining hall. Castle leaves their bags with her and heads off to do her bidding, crossing the lobby with a growing sense of dread.

He's more of the fancy hotel kind of guy, and honestly, he expected Beckett to rather have the swank and comfort as well.

The dining hall is more of the same - moose tracks and rustic and Paul Bunyon. Even dressed in his plaid shirt and thick peacoat, his jeans and climbing boots, Castle doesn't belong. He's about the same width and height as all the other men in the place, but he gets his hair cut at a salon and styles it in the morning, he has dry cleaning and neckties that cost more than these guys' whole outfits, and his face is more handsome - while theirs is more rugged.

And they know it. The handful of guys are here for black coffee and to talk about the weather, their faces wind-reddened and their shoulders hunched. They glance at him and don't give him another look, dismissing him outright as too shiny for their world.

It's going to be interesting here. At least he'll get lots of fodder for a novel. He's already used Frozen Heat as a title, but since Beckett objected to _Body Heat _maybe he can get Nikki up to the Land of the Midnight Sun for some _Midnight Heat_?

Castle brings back their coffees, already sipping the foam off of his, burning his tongue and soft palate like the city slicker he is, and he finds her deep in serious conversation with the woman at the front desk. She nods and catches sight of him, turns away from the woman to give him a too-bright smile.

Huh. What's that about?

"Oh, thanks," she murmurs, and the brilliance dials down a notch. Back to normal, and a little sweet, like she's looked at him ever since he agreed to this. "My fingers are freezing."

"You just want to hold it?" he chuckles.

She shrugs at him. The desk clerk hands her back the credit card and Kate takes it, pushing it into her back pocket. "Sign for me?" she murmurs.

Castle steps past her and signs on the line, wondering when exactly they got to this point - and how. Only eight months ago she was blanching at the hotel he put them up at and now she's got his credit card and uses it without him even realizing.

He really likes that. Does funny things to him, her slipping his card into her pocket without batting an eye. He'll be fine in Alaska if it means she's found herself at home with him, found _them_ a home. He'll _move_ to Alaska if-

Well. They would have a couple serious conversations first.

"You got these?" she says.

He turns and sees that she's speaking to a bellhop, a teenager really, a kid in jeans and - of course - a plaid shirt. Castle takes his coffee from the top of the front desk and finds a place for his free hand at Kate's lower back, walking at her side down the long, low hall.

Castle shivers when the kid pushes open the door at the end of the hall and a gust of wind slams into them. He gives Kate a look and she nods towards the path; he sees a long expanse of green roofs capping a series of cabins.

Of course. It's Alaska - what was he thinking, hotel room?

He hustles after Kate and the kid, finds himself being ushered to a log-constructed cabin, larger than he expected, with the ornate wooden double doors opening up onto a front sitting room.

Castle isn't paying attention at first, still shivering in his coat, when he finally lifts his head and takes his first look at the place. The back wall of the cabin gives over onto a sprawling vista of snow and mountain in jagged, jarring immensity.

"Whoa."

"Here you are," the boy says. "If you need anything, you can call my mom at the front desk. My dad does the fire, lodge maintenance, and tours. There's a hawkwatch - if you want."

He's barely hearing the kid. The floor-to-ceiling windows are filled with the bristling mountainside, an avalanche in the making, the wild and raw power practically in the _room_ with them.

"Kate," he scrapes.

He hears the door close and it cuts into the spell-binding pull of the view before him; he jerks his eyes to her and she's not even smiling, just _existing_ there, a mirror to the light-soaked mountains.

"Yeah," she says quietly.

He turns his gaze back to the windows - the sharp break of snow over evergreens which frame a glacier lake that, in turn, reflects the perfect, uneven peaks of the mountains.

Unending.

Here is eternity.

Eternity - with her. She chose the geography and the accommodations; she arranged their travel. He paid his half but she did all the work, and while he knows it's not about accomplishing something, he hopes it does anyway.

He wishes for peace on earth.

Peace for them.

And with this view in front of him, the lodge and the quiet and the aloneness don't even matter.

These mountains make anything possible.

* * *

Kate comes gasping through the door, ice down her back, socks slumped down her boots and soaking wet, but Castle chases her.

She yelps when his arm snakes around her waist, yanking her back, and she laughs hard as he tries to smother snow in her face. "Stop, Castle, Castle - stop!"

He's growling at her, his body powerful, and she eats snow, spluttering as the cold makes her jaw clench, nerves flaring in her teeth and shooting back through her skull.

"That's _freezing_," she yelps.

"You _pantsed _me."

"I - I didn't," she laughs, writhing in his grip and finally knocking free. She twists away and grabs for his hands, but the snow is mostly melted. He lets it drip and fall to the floor and she laughs, startled that they've made it inside.

And they've tracked in a whole snowfield behind them.

"I didn't pants you," she laughs.

"You shoved snow down my pants."

"Down your... hmmm..." She has to press her lips together to keep from laughing again, her eyes tracking his movements as he stalks her through the living room and corners her in the kitchen. Over his shoulder, she sees the front double doors gaping wide open. "You left the door wide open. Everyone saw you shove snow in my face."

"Who's everyone? The woodland creatures? You're not exactly a simpering Cinderella - the mice don't make your dresses and the birds don't adorn your hair."

"Maybe I _am_ attended by woodland creatures. How would you know?"

"Come to think of it - I wouldn't put it past you. Fine. Let those beasts come for me. But you know what? You still deserved it," he growls.

"You did too," she laughs. "Trying to feel me up."

"Just trying to keep you warm," he says innocently.

"And I was just trying to cool you down," she replies, her fingers gripping his, rippling as he silently tries to fight her, locked in a stalemate.

"How about I go close the door," he murmurs, his eyes heating up as they rove over her. "And you warm _me_ up?"

"I could be persuaded."


	20. Bucket List - Final Chapter

**Bucket List**

* * *

He sips his hot chocolate and leans his head back on the arm of the leather couch, reaches up a hand to drag the chenille throw blanket over him. Castle has no idea where she went - she was gone when he got out of the shower - but he's actually okay with that.

Give her space; give her time. She's giving him quite a lot more than he expected on this trip.

Four o'clock on New Year's Eve, pitch black outside his windows, and he's alone.

Not for long, surely.

Castle settles his mug of hot chocolate on his chest and lets his eyes close, feels his body relaxing into the cheap leather.

* * *

He wakes when she slides the mug out of his fingers, some instinctual movement to grab it, but her fingers brush his forehead in reassurance. Then her body forms to his, gently nudging him deeper into the couch to make him shift. He rouses and draws an arm around her waist, spooning at her back as she settles with him.

He can't quite come up completely, but he doesn't fall back to sleep either. He drifts in the warmth, faintly hears the rain falling against the roof, spattering the windows.

"No, it's snowing," she whispers.

He must have said that out loud. He mumbles something and she reaches back to stroke his hip. He finds her hand and draws it up, tucks it at her sternum, wins the battle to open his eyes.

It's snowing. Fat, heavy flakes that cling to the windows. He huffs a laugh and uses his chin to press down her hair, away from his mouth, the riot of those natural curls winding into his view. He has to untangle their hands and comb her hair back, brushing a kiss to her temple.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs.

She hums some kind of assurance and they watch the snow collect over the range of mountains and trees, sifting through the branches and coating the ground.

"I saw a hawk earlier," she says softly.

"I've seen one as well," he admits. "And a few rodent-things."

"Hmm." The snow dampens all sound, makes the sky leaden, like a bowl has been pressed over the earth.

Suddenly out of this quiet, breaking the serenity, comes a blur of movement, black legs and a red-furred body, a fox racing across the snow field.

Kate gasps, and Castle lifts his head, staring out the windows. The fox darts one direction, stops, makes a four-foot leap straight into the air, landing deep into a bank of snow head-first. Castle laughs and the fox is already flinging itself out of the snow, spraying flakes as he goes, and then the little canine does his leap again, _playing._

Neither of them speak, don't dare to even say a word, simply watch the fox as it chases its own shadow across the snow, tumbling into drifts and burrowing through the banks. It comes up the other side and it's closer than ever, the blur of fur and the pointy, watchful ears set over those slanted, happy eyes.

"Turn off the lights," Castle murmurs. "Turn the living room lights off so he doesn't see in."

Kate slips off the couch and hits the switch on the far wall, dousing the room in darkness. He sits up and opens his arm to her and she slips back into his embrace, nestling on the couch with him. With the light off, the darkness outside is illuminated by the snow itself, and they can still see the red fox as his antics draw him closer and closer to their cabin.

And then the fox is in their backyard, tunneling through the snow, tossing it up with his nose and catching it in his mouth. He licks at a paw and dives head-first into the snow once more, rolls all the way towards the windows.

Kate gasps when the fox knocks into the glass; Castle tightens his arm around her. He holds his breath, but the fox shakes off the snow, his back wriggling and fur bristling, and then he knocks his nose into the glass.

"Don't move," Kate whispers. "Don't move."

"No, never," he murmurs. The sun set at 3:40 this afternoon and the night has lulled him towards sleep ever since, but now that the fox is right before them, peering in through the glass, he's never been more awake.

A tilt of the little head, and the ears prick towards the window, the dark eyes peering inside. Castle stays very still, barely daring to breathe, and then he sees a pink tongue come out and lick the snow from the glass.

Kate's laugh is captured in her throat. His arm grips her tighter, sharing the sudden amazement, and the fox presses his tongue to the window once more, lapping up snow as it melts. The black nose bumps the glass and the fox shakes its head, bristle-brush of a tail coming up, and then he dashes away, off through the snow once more, disappearing out of sight.

* * *

Kate's phone vibrates in the darkness and she jerks awake, gasping through a nightmare and struggling to rise.

Her body is heavy and her hand fumbles at the side table, catching the phone and bringing it into her chest. She has to gasp and swallow and scrape her free hand through her hair a few times to get with it.

Phone.

She stares at it uncomprehendingly, too long a moment until her brain clicks over, and she realizes it's only eleven o'clock at night. It's been dark for hours and they went to bed early after a full day of hiking and exploring through the mountain snow.

Just a message from the 12th, the usual alert about wintry conditions and calling for volunteers. She left the ringer on because the front desk is supposed to alert their guests when it happens, if it happens at all, and she wants this so badly for them.

Just one night of magic.

But now she's awake, of course.

Kate stumbles out of bed and tries not to wake Castle, moves towards the front room where the windows are wide and open and clear. The fox's tongue has left smears along the bottom of the center window, the glass freezing cold at the touch. She smiles at the memory, the perfect image captured in her head of his little pink tongue and black nose.

She can't remember what provisions the lodge provided, but she opens the cabinets and roots around behind a can of coffee a jar of spices, searching for something to put her back to sleep. Maybe tea, if they have it.

No tea bags, no box of Celestial Seasonings, nothing. She sighs and wanders back into the living room, gathers the blanket from the back of the couch. She wraps it around her and settles down on the floor in front of the broad windows, her chin on her knee, trying to recapture the sense of sleep.

She lets her eyes follow the line of the jagged mountains, the deep violet and indigo of their sheer faces, the luminous white of snow making them glow in the darkness. The trees are sharp points flocked along the base of the range, the tallest branches interrupting the landscape.

At first she doesn't see it. The stars just seem to... shimmer. As if the sky is out of focus. As if the world has rotated through a smudge in the cosmos, a scattering of universal dust.

And then the clouds seem to peel back and stream light.

_Light_.

Ribbons undulate in the darkness, the mountains reflecting green where before it was only that brilliant white. The night is coming alive before her very eyes, unfurling slowly at first as if the spirits need to warm up, streamers of green and yellow and turquoise skimming the line of the mountains.

The phone in her hand tones with the aurora alert from the front desk, but Kate doesn't even look at it.

She meant this for _him_ but she can't help standing rooted to the spot, struck by the deep colors in the night sky and the echo across the snow.

She can't breathe.

How.

How did her world exist before this?

* * *

Castle sucks in a breath in his dream of the high seas, and his eyes fly open to the pale mermaid above him.

"Rick."

He lifts a hand, drops it again, can't fathom why this beautiful creature hovers over him. Did he drown? Is he deep?

"Rick. Wake up, babe."

"Yeah." His vision shifts and it's Kate above him, her hand at his jaw. He sighs. "Yeah, awake."

"Come with me, hurry."

"Hurry."

"Rick. Wake up."

He lifts his hand again and curls his fingers at her neck, feels a thumping pulse that drags him upright. He can't help needing to use her to leverage himself out of bed, his body still in the heavy press of the ocean, but the heat of her skin against his palm is like a light house.

"Come this way," she calls. "Just right out here."

"Where's - why - what time's it?"

"It's only ten," she whispers. "Don't worry, nothing bad. Just come look."

He opens his mouth but there aren't any words, just the pitching of his body back towards the bed. He finds his hand is still on her shoulder like he needs her to lead him around, a man blinded by sleep, but she does, taking pity on him, her fingers lacing through his and carrying him forward until he gets his sea legs.

He shuffles out into the hall and down past the kitchen towards the front room, each step bringing him more with it.

"You okay?" he rasps, clearing his throat at the end of his question.

She doesn't speak, just comes to a halt past the threshold, her hand dropping away from him, and he stops at her back, studying her for an answer.

And then he sees it reflected in her eyes and he pivots towards the windows, stunned by the vast expanse of _color_.

"Kate..."

The Northern lights. Wide, dancing drapes of color across the sky.

Castle walks forward as if in a dream, still underwater, slides closer, bumping against the window. Sharply cold air radiates from the glass but he feels Kate at his back, close, too close, warm, and the sky. The sky.

Green phantasms. Violet ghosts wringing the night. There's no moon, the stars are dim in comparison, but the lights.

"Let's go outside," he urges, unable to take his eyes off the sight. "Kate. Let's-"

"Yes," she answers quickly. She's tugging on him, leading him, because he can't quite pull his gaze away. She puts shoes into his hands and he shoves them onto his bare feet, drags his coat from the rack near the back door, hurrying now because there is so much mystery, so much awe - he can't miss it.

"Come on," she says, pushing him through the door.

It's achingly cold outside, his shoes sinking in the snow and melting in around his ankles. He groans and shuffles through it, making a path for her with his body, and she hangs on to his coat, coming in behind him.

The whole entire sky is _radiant_ with light.

It moves and sways, starts in the east to ripple out over the north, the mountains reflecting the greens and golds and pinks, the fuchsia lightning and the blue streamers. A watercolor washed out across the sky, bleeding light into the darkness.

"Aurora borealis," she breathes. Her body leans into his and he draws his arm around her, needing her close, needing her in this with him for this moment. Cold and small under the infinite - but not alone.

He swallows through it. "I can't believe how..." The sky writhes with green wraiths, the birth of light.

"No," she murmurs. "No, I believe." Her quiet voice grows firm. "I believe."

"Oh." He tilts his head back to encompass the whole sky. "Yes. Yes, that."

Her fingers hook in the waist of his pajama pants, warming, her body pressed into his side, everything breathless.

Yes. He believes.

* * *

_27. See the Aurora Borealis._


	21. Doomsday - Chapter One

**Doomsday**

* * *

Kate settled down in the driver's seat of their car and adjusted the mirrors while Castle loaded the last of their stuff into the trunk and slammed it shut. When he opened the passenger door and folded himself inside, she gave him a look for messing with her seat - again - and he shrugged her off with a chuckle.

"Happy Anniversary?" he said.

"That won't get you out of this one, buddy," she muttered, starting the ignition. "You drove my car."

"I did," he admitted easily. "I moved it off the street, remember?"

Oh, he probably had. It'd been a very long last few weeks. She'd taken the subway home to their loft at least four or fives times when she'd actually had the car to drive, leaving it at the 12th without realizing. And yesterday morning, she'd driven ahead of them and gotten his anniversary present finished and then worked obscenely late on the case to make up for it, forgetting about the car. "You went to the precinct and got it?"

"Twice," he bragged on himself. "And last night I didn't even hear you come in. Went and got it this morning while you were still asleep. You guys wrap the case?"

"It was three a.m.," she muttered. "But yeah. Finally."

"The boys woke you this morning. You get enough sleep to be driving us?"

"I'm good," she promised. "But put on your seat belt, Rick."

He laughed at her, but he grabbed for the strap and clicked it into the lock, tugging. "I'm set. Let's go."

She maneuvered the car - her beautiful electric-hybrid roadster - out of the garage and into the daylight. He'd bought this car for her years ago as a fourth anniversary present - he'd said it was the year for appliances - and she adored the quiet black panther of a car. It was a rush, driving it on the open road, but right now the streets were crowded with holiday traffic.

She aimed them north and started slipping in and out of the other vehicles, her car lighter and more fluid, graceful, than most of the beasts on the street. She loved him for this car. And while that wasn't the only reason she was kidnapping him today, it was part of it.

Kate reached out and slid her hand to his knee, squeezing, cradling the steering wheel in her other hand and feeling the sapphire of her ring catch the pant leg of her jeans. He'd gotten her the ring she'd wanted despite how 'cheap' it was, and then every year after, he'd made up the price difference with more and more expensive things.

She couldn't be bought, but this _car_.

So she wanted to give him something this year.

"Watching you drive has got to be one of the most erotic experiences of my life. Happy anniversary to me."

Kate laughed and glanced over at him, her husband of nearly ten years, suddenly glad she'd insisted on going out there today. He didn't know where they were headed, but he would soon enough - her anniversary surprise for him.

She'd rub herself ragged this month because it was the Christmas holidays, and the kids were still young, and besides, this _case_ - sometimes the world conspired against her. But this was _them _and it would be fun, and they needed a chance to reconnect. While she'd never really felt like it was hers - it was just a strange sketch and shadow of their real home - the Doomsday bunker was where it had all started.

It was only fitting that they go on December 21, ten years later, and give it a proper send-off.

Besides. The new owners took possession of the keys at the start of the new year.

* * *

"I know where we're going," he told her. "It's the road to my fallout shelter."

"It is," she confirmed, her lips pressed into a gorgeous smile. She'd been so pleased with herself when she'd come to him last week, hooking a finger in the top button of his shirt and pulling him in close, saying _I have plans for you this year._ He'd known immediately she wanted to do something for their anniversary - which technically _wasn't_ December 21st, but they always celebrated it as the day they figured things out.

"Good one, Beckett," he said, smiling himself. She was never the one to look as excited as a little kid - too composed, too serene for that - but she looked pretty sexily proud.

"Figured we could relive some memories."

"Oh, no. Please tell me you didn't invited the Ryan sisters?"

She laughed, her mouth wide, and then her teeth snagged her bottom lip as she held it back. "No. No one but us." She was fumbling with the stereo display on her phone; it was apparently something she'd uploaded from their home computer, and her concentration was all in that chewing of her lip.

He was just about to reach out and tug that lip out of her teeth when the music started. Castle laughed, recognizing the soundtrack to the _War of the Worlds_ movie made back in 1953. For her forethought, he tried his best to shoot her hot, smoldering looks around his laughter, and as the orchestra swelled and crescendoed inside the sleek space, the whole thing turned surreal and absurd.

And somehow - so them.

"Hey, the guy who composed this - Leith Stevens?" he started.

"Mm, yes," she murmured, her eyes soft and tender on his. Ever since that day ten years ago, _War of the Worlds_ was their thing.

"Do you know what happened to him?" Castle said.

"What happened to him?" she repeated, eyes shifting to him and back to the road. "Castle. Please tell me this movie isn't connected to some horrible tragedy. This is _our _music."

"No, well, sort of. He married his sweetheart when they were young. And when they were older, his wife died in a car accident," he confessed. "And then Leith himself died of a heart attack that same day."

"What?" She gave him a grief-stricken look, but it held some of the same terrible wonder he'd felt when he'd found out as well. "They both _died."_

"On the same day," he added. "He heard his wife was dead and he told his family the news, and then his heart couldn't take it any longer and he died."

"Oh. Oh, I-" Kate cut off and he saw the way she struggled with it.

"I was playing the movie for the boys and we looked up all the trivia. I didn't know before then."

Kate sighed and her hand came back to his, grasping his fingers and hanging on. "Do you remember that list you made me? The things you loved about me."

"Of course," he said softly. "I still have it. With your list right below it. Still love those things about you."

"You used the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, and in that song-"

"Oh," he breathed. "I remember - 'The Luckiest'. The lyrics say something about a man living to his nineties and passing away in his sleep and then how his wife stayed for a few days and then died as well."

"Yes," she said quickly. And then her voice, quiet and strong, sang the last few lines. "I'm sorry. I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know-"

"We belong," he finished. _We belong. _Together.

"I love this music," she sighed. And he knew what she really meant was _I love us._

* * *

She flashed him a look when he pulled the garage door opener from the cup holder; he actually had the gall to laugh at her and lean in, kiss her cheek for it.

Those garage door openers had _started_ all of this. Alexis had given them away to all of Ryan's family members who had left for work that next morning - certain the world was not, in fact, going to end - and then the rest of them had been stuck.

Of course, Castle had fixed that problem since then, but Kate still liked to bring it up, remind him how he basically kidnapped her and held her against her will.

She drove the Tesla roadster down the long tunnel that sloped subtly underground and parked inside the garage. Castle used to keep an emergency Hummer in here, but she made him get rid of it; they never used it and she'd argued that the battery would be dead if they did ever need it, and anyway it wasn't environmentally friendly for repopulating the world after the great apocalypse.

He had taken her seriously and sold the car.

As Kate turned off the ignition, Castle was already hopping out to plug in the car; his amusement and eagerness made her laugh every time. He said it was like The Jetsons had finally come to life and he was often making up excuses to drive it.

She popped the trunk and went around back to ease their suitcase out, being careful of the paint. Castle took it from her and made a funny gesture with his hand, as if to indicate he would take care of things, so Kate left him to the suitcase and the car both. But she wanted him to be the first one through the door, so she took her time.

As usual, the key got stuck as she turned against the tumblers; she had to jiggle the handle and bump her hip against it to force it open. When she stepped inside, the air was fragrant with vanilla and musk from the candles she'd burned when she'd been here yesterday morning.

Castle came in behind her, a soft breath of surprise, and dropped a kiss to the side of her neck. She turned and nudged him forward, trying to get him to move past her as she took the handle of their suitcase. "Go on in," she murmured, letting her hand linger at his forearm.

Castle went farther, moving past the living room that looked like their own at home, heading instinctively for the master bedroom. She followed, waiting for the moment he saw what she'd done.

When Castle pushed open the bedroom door, he laughed and turned that gorgeous, happy smile on her.

"Trying to tell me something?"

"Keeping it real," she smirked.

She'd showered the bed in survival gear. Everything he might possibly need: the leather gloves he'd mentioned ten years ago as being the only way to fend off a zombie's bite; the rations of meals-ready-to-eat and a package of water purification tablets; those idiotic gas masks he'd bought for their first anniversary that she hadn't found funny whatsoever; and then the Zombie Survival Guide, of course.

All carefully arranged just for him.

Castle turned back to her and clamped his hand at her waist, hauled her into him. "Tell me you didn't back out on the sale of this infernal place."

"Infernal?" she laughed. "But no, I didn't. Bunker is still being sold. I just thought I took it _so well_ that first year when you were romantic and bought me his and hers gas masks-

"In my defense," he grumbled, "it was a _joke_, Kate."

"Well, I made you your very own zombie survival kit," she smiled. "Because you deserve no less than to be prepared for any eventuality."

"See? That was exactly my thinking as well. We'd gotten engaged down here and it was my way of showing you I could provide for your every apocalyptic need."

"Castle, I could have killed you," she laughed, reaching out and gripping the lapels of his coat. She tugged him closer, nose to nose, and finally kissed him. "We laugh now, but it wasn't funny at all."

"I learned," he whispered back. "I got you that car you love - that car I love you in. I can be taught."

"Oh, you certainly can," she murmured. Another kiss, slow and warm, heating up, proving her point. She nudged his mouth away and kissed his jaw. "Just wanted to remind you of how far we've come."

He smiled against her mouth and pressed another kiss to the corner of her lips. "We're definitely different people from those back then. All that holding back to save each other's lives crap - how ridiculous we were. Making it into something more than it should have been."

"It felt like the world," she sighed. "Apocalyptic. But we figured it out-"

"-thanks to my doomsday bunker-"

"-and we've made it work," she finished. "We've come a long way from then, but I still think - I don't know. We're still us. I mean we even predicted exactly how many kids we'd have."

"What?" he squeaked. "A fourth? No. You-"

"I'm including Alexis," she laughed. "But oh, that was _so_ worth it to see your face."

"Holy..." Castle groaned and tilted his forehead into hers, playing it up like the diva he could be. "You _scared_ me. Four kids under five? Gonna kill me, Beckett."

"The thought of a fourth at your age really is terrifying," she hummed, laughing when he gasped with indignation. "No, we have more than enough. The boys are all the zombie horde we need."

"I'm so glad they're not here," Castle whispered tightly, sounding like a man hunted.

Kate stroked the side of his face, soothing him. "There, there. They can't get you inside your Doomsday bunker. And see? You have all the equipment you need to fend them off."

"Actually," Castle grinned, straightening up and dropping the act. "I had thought about it being a family trip. That you were putting me on. But then I figured you need some time to decompress after all that-"

He gestured to the world outside them and she realized, for the first time in weeks, she was truly and completely alone. Well, with Castle, yes, but _alone_. The demands on her time and for her attention would come only from her husband and he was just as likely to leave her alone as he was to be all in her... stuff.

"Yeah," she said throatily. "Been looking forward to it. Ever since I planned this."

"You came up here yesterday, didn't you? To get it ready. I'd planned on us needing to clean the place - air it out. You did that?"

"Yeah," she sighed, a wince as the week caught up with her.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, brought it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "Too much, Kate. Serial killer case. The house here. The kids every morning."

"It was worth it. You give me a lot - every year, Rick - and this year, ten years of us, I wanted to do something for you too. For us. Since we're selling it."

"You do enough for me," he said. His fingers brushed hers thoughtfully, his gaze regarding her, and she seemed to pass inspection because he brought her in close and wrapped her in his arms. "You're their mom and my wife and the city's detective... and my friend."

She pressed her forehead against his cheek so she could close her eyes, her heart flipping and throat tightening. She'd never thought about it - about being his _friend_ - and how they had both needed it. Still needed it. She hooked her arm around his neck and leaned into him, tall in her boots so that they were equal.

"You do so much," he murmured, fingers skimming the bones of her spine and making her shiver. "I don't need anything more than you."

"Damn it," she choked, hugging him harder. "You always outdo me with your words."

He chuckled, cradling the back of her head. "Not a competition, Kate."

She squeezed his neck in disagreement.

"Okay," he grinned. "Maybe a little bit. But the car - I think that means I win for life."

"Good point."


	22. Doomsday - Final Chapter

**Doomsday**

* * *

Castle found the _War of the Worlds_ radio broadcast online and played it for them while they put together dinner. It was mostly background noise as they talked, Kate sharing stories about their boys at the 12th while browning the chicken, and Castle giving her eerily similar tales about their boys at home while cutting up the vegetables.

"And he made you a picture all about it. Did you see it?" Castle laughed, the knife making a satisfying sound against the cutting board. "He taped it to your pillow."

"I saw it. I went upstairs and woke him," she smiled. She always seemed to turn inward when it came to the boys, like it touched a place inside her that she wanted to protect.

"Oh, good," he murmured. "That's perfect. He was afraid you'd miss it."

"No. I took him to preschool the next morning, and I asked him then - when he was more awake - if I could bring it to the 12th and tape it to my desk. You know what he told me?"

"No. What?"

"He said I should probably put it on the white board, since it was evidence." Kate bit her lip against her smile, but Castle laughed, the knife pausing, his amusement spilling out of him.

"Classic. That is classic."

"He comes up with the best stuff," she admitted. "I know where he gets it too." She flashed him a look.

"Me?" he chuckled. "Could be right." He resumed slicing the cucumber, fingers beginning to chill in the damp, cool air. He should probably check the generator; it had the tendency to flicker. "I was looking for something original for you this year."

From the edges of his vision, he saw her head come up, her eyes on his. "For my anniversary present?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's special - this year - because it's been a decade. And we've both survived."

"You were _not _going to get me more survival gear."

He laughed. "Sort of. But I was thinking classier. I found these intricate necklaces online that have detachable switchblades."

"No."

"The boys were all for it," he confessed, lifting an eyebrow at her. "In fact, they wouldn't let me _not._ I think the term they used a little too liberally was bad-ass."

"For which you washed their mouths out with soap. Castle. Right."

"Uh."

"Castle."

"I put the kibosh on the cussing, yeah. But, babe, the Critter wanted it for you so badly. He looked crestfallen when I told him it probably wasn't your style. So I had to get it. I'm just warning you now - it's not your _real_ present. But act like it for his sake."

"Critter," she sighed. "Poor baby. He's crestfallen so _often_."

"See why I couldn't do it to him?"

"All right," she muttered, taking the chicken off the stove. "Fine. A switchblade necklace. I can be excited about that."

"Good girl," he chuckled. The chicken was done and the vegetables sliced, so he pulled out the pre-made pizza crust from the fridge and opened it up. "You know, I think the boys would love it here."

"They don't love it here," she countered. "They love your storerooms underground."

"Critter would love it."

"Critter is morbid," she shot back.

"He's only two," Castle defended. "And his brothers goad him. You know they do. Like when he ate that-"

"Castle," she growled.

Yeah, she didn't love that story.

"Anyway, the switchblade was their idea and when I give it to you for Christmas-"

"I can be appropriately enthusiastic," she said, rolling her eyes. She knocked his hand away as he reached for the shredded cheese. "It's fine. It has plenty. I want more squash."

"You and veggie pizzas," he complained.

"Oh, hey," she said, turning her back on him to open the oven door. They'd pre-heated it when they started and he felt the blast of warm air hit his skin and tighten his cheeks even as he added a few more handfuls of shredded cheese.

"Hey, what?"

"I have _your_ present on the bed in there."

"I saw," he grinned. "No switchblade necklace but not too shabby."

Kate laughed as she grabbed the pizza and slid it inside the over. She turned around and bumped the oven door closed with her hip. "No. Not that survival stuff. Your real present. It's - I don't know. Lame, maybe."

"No way," he said quietly, growing excited by the nervousness in her voice. She only got nervous when it meant a lot to her. "Not lame at all."

"Just go open it," she shooed.

He grabbed her hand and made her come with him, their fingers slick with olive oil. "Come with me. You know I hate opening gifts from you alone."

"You know I hate watching," she sighed.

"Come on, Kate," he insisted, pulling her along the hallway and back to the master bedroom. She came though, willing or unwilling didn't matter.

He saw the wrapped box in the middle of the bed and lifted an eyebrow, reached for it even as she opened her mouth to explain. "It's like that story. The radio broadcast story."

There were a lot of stories they'd discovered together due to _War of the Worlds_, so he didn't know yet which one she was referring to. Usually Castle did the research and told her tales while she took a bath or when they'd just put the kids to bed, pulling out nuggets and kernels of interest, giving her more and more of the background behind the radio broadcast that had - to some degree - thrust them together.

He peeled the plain brown paper off the gift and saw it was a shoebox. When he opened it, a pair of black leather men's dress shoes were inside, sharp and cutting in their sophistication.

"Shoes?" He pulled one out.

"Look at it closely," she murmured.

He gave her a swift look and inspected the shoe. A nearly invisible slit in the sole revealed a release trigger for a switch blade that shot out of the toe. Castle startled and laughed. "Great minds, Kate. These are awesome."

She was grinning back at him, still looking at him with some hesitance on her face. "They're from a store called Doomsday in Australia. But the best part?"

"What?" he asked.

"When CBS was sued for damages over the broadcast of _War of the Worlds_, the courts threw out every claim but one."

"Oh?" He didn't remember this story.

"Welles himself insisted on settling one case - a Massachusetts man who had bought a bus ticket to escape the Martian invasion - and had spent the money he'd saved up for a new pair of men's dress shoes. CBS paid for a new pair."

Like the ones in his hands.

"These," she said softly, "might do both - help you outrun our little Martians, and give you a pair of good shoes."

"That - that is _epic_," he glowed. "Kate. Wow. I'd never - I don't know how, but I've never come across that story before."

She shrugged, a smug thing, but came in close enough to take the shoe from him. She pressed the knife to the side of the box and carefully made the blade retreat. He realized the box had _Doomsday_ scrawled in Gothic writing on the top and the sides were hardier stuff than mere cardboard. A collector's box.

Kate laid the shoes back inside and wrapped her arm around his neck, giving him a nip of her teeth at his jaw, the rough jostle of their bodies.

"Fiesty," he murmured, his laughter dying as she rucked up his shirt. "Whoa."

"Happy anniversary," she breathed.

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, this is..."

"You like your zombie killing shoes?" she murmured, her kiss sucking at his bottom lip and stinging.

He groaned and clutched her against him, driving her back against the wall and making the frames rattle.

"I'll take that as a yes," she gasped. "Been - too long, Rick."

"No _kidding_," he growled, already halfway there and she hadn't even gotten her hands on him. "Kate. Kate - I-"

"If you love your present, then show me how much," she husked.

Oh, hell, yes. What had he been saying about wishing the kids were with them? No, nope. Nothing doing.

"Love you, Detective Beckett."

"Mm, less talking."


	23. Dash and Ellery

**Dash (& Ella)**

* * *

_thanks to RuggedlyHandsome (message 104) on the ABC discussion site for the prompt for Castle's Christmas story_

* * *

"Marshmallows?" Dashiell yells down the hallway. "Huh, Mom? Can we?"

Kate winces and comes up behind him, cupping his head in her hands tilting it back to kiss his forehead. "Indoor voice, wild man. I just got Sophie down for her nap."

"Oh, sorry," he stage whispers, his voice carrying through the upstairs. "Can we do marshmallows?"

"Marshmallows!" Ellery chimes in, hurtling out of her bedroom.

Kate turns and points for the door. "You have two minutes left on time-out. Back in your room."

Ella has a thunderous look on her face, but she pivots on her heels and marches back into her room, slamming the door shut. The baby loses her tenuous hold on sleep and wails from the dark room.

"Kate?"

"Come talk to your daughter about manners," she calls down. Castle climbs slowly up the stairs and Dashiell huffs.

"_Marshmallows_."

"This is the wrong time to ask, my man." Castle nudges his his forehead with a knuckle. "Go down and wait for us. Sophie is hollering and Ellery's feelings are hurt."

Castle lifts eyebrows at her as he straightens up; she nods and catches his forearm in thanks, then she moves back to the extra bedroom where Sophie's been put down.

They're on baby-sitting duty so Allie and Rafe can get Christmas presents knocked out in one night; Kate has forgotten how much work a baby can be. Sophie's still so little that she wants that constant touch and warmth, and while Castle would probably gladly hold his granddaughter all day long, Kate thinks it's not nice to spoil her for her parents.

She slips back inside the extra bedroom and pauses, watching Ella's old ladybug nightlight play blue stars across the ceiling. Sophie has quieted down to pitiful whimpers, and Kate can hear her sucking hard on her pacifier, self-soothing.

Kate stays where she is, listening, but Sophie must catch her smell or sense the change in the air, because she cries a little stronger. Kate heads for her in the crib, dips her hand over the bars to comfort the baby.

Sophie's hair is soft under her fingers, her head bobbing back down to the crib mattress at Kate's touch. "Hey," she murmurs. "I'm here. You're okay. Time for a nap, honey."

Her whimpering remains but the cries stop; Sophie scrunches up into a round little ball on her stomach, bouncing to keep herself alert.

"No, baby," Kate sighs, sinking her cheek to the top of the railing. "Sleep; it's time to sleep, honey. Mommy and Daddy will be here soon."

She strokes her finger down Sophie's nose and curls around her cheekbone, traces her eye. Sophie sighs and begins to settle, lashes brushing Kate's skin as they droop.

"That's it; there you go. Nap time, my little diva." She watches Allie's baby slip under, like a leaf in a pool, slowly sinking.

Kate lifts away from the crib and pauses, her breathing slow and even in the pale blue light of the ladybug. Finally she takes quiet, soft steps towards the door, and Kate lifts her hand to the knob.

But she stays just a moment longer, her eyes on the small little girl.

That used to be Dashiell's crib, and Ellery's after that. And now it's Sophie's when she stays with her mother's family.

Her grandparents.

* * *

Castle pushes two more marshmallows onto the forked wires and hands it over to Dash. "Don't run. Don't poke your sister."

"I won't," the boy scoffs and then spins around and nearly whacks Ella in the face.

Castle catches him, orients him towards the open fireplace, and sighs. "Stay very, very still, wild man."

"I will," Dash whispers.

"Now for me," Ellery says, sliding up next to him and wrapping her arm around his thigh. "Me, Daddy."

"Okay, cricket. Hang on. Let me slide some marshmallows on this for you." He rifles through the bag one-handed, shakes it off as it clings to skin. He pushes four marshmallows onto the stick and winks at her - Dash only got three. "Here. Not too close, remember? And if it catches on fire, call me or Mommy to blow it out."

"But we're not supposed to wake the baby," Dashiell says, turning his head and forgetting what he's doing. The marshmallows dip and Castle catches the boy's arm, trying not to laugh.

"Careful, buddy. Watch what you're doing or you'll smack half-crusty marshmallow into the wall."

"Whoops."

"If something's on fire," Castle adds. "Wake the baby."

"Castle," Kate chides, coming down the stairs and peering at them between the steps. "Dashiell, if _you_ or _Ellery _is on fire, then yes. Wake the baby. But if a marshmallow is on fire, just call out for us. In a normal voice. We can hear you."

She gives him a raised eyebrow for that and Castle shrugs; not like he plans on walking away from his seven year old while the kid plays with fire _and_ a pointy stick. Asking for an ER visit this afternoon.

Kate runs her hand up his back and leans into him, smelling like mild soap and lavender - Sophie smells, baby smells. He kisses her temple and pulls her down to the arm of the chair.

Kate laughs in his ear and aligns her legs across his lap, sinks down to sit with him, her knees hooked over the other arm of the chair. Castle pinches the back of her neck with his thumb and forefinger, massages out the kinks while they watch the kids.

Last year she rearranged their loft and made a seating area in front of the fireplace since the kids were so fascinated with the gas logs. They've spent nearly every day of winter like this, roasting marshmallows and hanging out here. It feels cozier away from the windows and close to the kitchen.

Plus the coffee machine is _right_ here.

"Coffee?" she murmurs.

He gasps and releases his hold on her. "You totally read my mind, Beckett. Sexy."

She elbows his ribs for that as she moves off of him, slips past Ellery to get to the coffee machine. "Kids, want some hot chocolate?"

Dashiell bounces into life. "Yes, oh, yes!" He hops up and down so that his hooded sweatshirt flops around - but so do the marshmallows.

"Dash," Rick calls out. "Careful. Watch what you're doing."

"Whoops."

Castle catches Kate's eye and she's shaking her head - they hear _oops_ a thousand times a day from that kid.

"Ella, how's it going?" he asks.

"Good, Daddy." She's at that age where half the time he's _daddy_ and half the time he's _you big meanie_. Dash started calling them Mom and Dad when he was five, but Ella turns six this year and hasn't lost that quiet and childlike address.

"You want creamer, Rick?"

"Ooh, do we have any of that pumpkin spice left?" he says, turning his head towards her.

She winces. "No, but sugar cookie, I think."

"And gingerbread," Dashiell says. "Can I have coffee too?"

"And me." Ellery swings her face his way, pleading. "Me, too, please?"

"Kate?"

"Fine. It's only three anyway."

"Yay!"

"Dashiell, _indoor voice_."

"Oops."

From upstairs, his little granddaughter cries, plaintive and pathetic, wanting her mother.

Castle chuckles, rubbing his hand down his face. Yeah, oops. "I'll get her, Kate," he says then, standing from the chair. "Make the coffee."

He heads upstairs to spoil his third little girl.

* * *

Kate hands out the mugs, settles Rick's onto the end table beside his chair. She sips her coffee slowly, the gingerbread creamer burning her tongue. Dashiell's favorite too - the ginger spice - and she sees Dash in the other chair swinging his feet as he dumps his charred marshmallows into his mug and sucks down his coffee.

The last of the daylight has drained from the street, though the sky still holds onto a few streaks of blue against the grey clouds. Kate curls up in the chair and lays her head against the back, tired after a day spent at home trying to corral her older two and keep them from breaking the baby. Three more days until Christmas and at least they have all their gifts bought and wrapped.

Her eyes slip closed and she pays vague attention to the sounds of Ellery and Dashiell quietly but intensely fighting with each other over the bag of marshmallows. Low-level stuff - a daily occurrence - and she ignores it as she has all day, letting herself drift. So long as they aren't murdering each other, she doesn't care.

Castle is still upstairs with Sophie, probably whispering stories over her as he rocks her back to sleep. Actually, Sophie could already be asleep - Castle would still be holding her.

She hears Ellery whisper something harsh and final and flounce off, running for the study. Ella often hides out in there, starts playing with her barbies or animals until she's forgotten all about being angry. Kate opens her eyes and turns to look at Dash.

His face is repentant - but still stubborn. "I didn't do it."

"I'm sure it was something," she murmurs. "Don't worry. You can apologize when she's calmed down a little. You finished burning the heck out of those marshmallows?"

"No. Ellery had more than me. I get to do one more or it's not fair!"

"I don't even care," Kate laughs, brushing it off with a flick of her wrist. "Go for it, Dash, honey."

He eyes her carefully. "Really?"

"I'm too tired to referee between you two."

"Is that like in soccer?"

"Hm, think basketball. You guys play hard and it means that Daddy and I have to keep track of the fouls. Make the game fair again."

"Oh," Dashiell says brightly. "I get it. Yeah, we foul a lot."

"You do know you're not supposed to be fouling each other."

"That's not true. My basketball coach said that at the end of the game, to keep them from scoring, you slap at the ball and foul so they have to shoot from the free throw line because they all suck and maybe they'll miss."

"Okay, okay," Kate huffs, giving up. "Never mind." She plops her feet to the floor and stands. "Let me check on your sister. You stay in here."

"But my marshmallows," he whines.

"You can do it. You're eight now - live it up, kiddo."

Dash laughs at her, giving her a sly look from the corner of his eye as he shoves two more marshmallows onto his stick. But she doesn't care. Dashiell is the kid that probably _would_ catch something on fire, but he's also the one that will scream his head off about it too.

Kate takes her coffee and Ellery's as well, heading back for the study to look for her daughter. Now that the baby is around so often, Kate thinks Ella's gotten stuck with the middle child role - a little overlooked because she's so quiet, neglected because she's not the baby.

The study is dark, lit only with the blue-green of encroaching twilight. Kate finds her daughter has crawled up onto the back of the black leather couch, perched there with her face against the window pane.

"Hey, sweet girl," she murmurs. Ella turns fast, her long hair whipping around, that surprised look on her face at being caught out. "What're you doing, cricket?"

Kate comes to sit, settling the mugs on the windowsill behind the back of the couch, curling an arm at her daughter's waist. She kisses the spot between Ellery's shoulder blades and feels the little bones pop up like wings. Ella's face is pushed against the glass, lashes long and framing those beautiful blue eyes.

"Ella. What do you see?"

"My lights," she whispers, sounding hesitant to share.

"Oh, that's right," Kate murmurs, her eyes shifting to the city beyond them. Castle told Ellery that the Christmas lights were just for her, on her birthday, just as he told Dashiell that the scary costumes were to celebrate his. Even though the kids are old enough to know better, some of that belief still lingers.

"Daddy shows me the lights every night," Ella says then, scratching her fingers against the glass with a sigh.

"Oh, I see. Daddy is upstairs trying to make sure that Sophie gets her nap. The baby will be cranky later if she doesn't sleep."

"I don't like Sophie cranky."

Kate chuckles, rubs down Ella's spine. "Me either," she says, wrinkling her nose so her daughter can see it. "Can you show _me _your lights instead?"

Ella gives this some serious thought, her eyes turning to her mother. Finally she nods her head and holds out her hands. "You gotta come up here with me, Mommy."

"Okay, cricket. Let me get up there." Kate carefully navigates the back of the couch, putting her feet on the sill and sinking into the window to keep her balance. She's surprised when her almost-six year old then crawls into her lap, wriggling between her and the glass.

"Mmm," Ella hums. "It's cold, Mama."

"It really is. Good thing our loft is so nice and warm."

"Can you drag up the blanket and wrap round me and you?"

"Yes, of course." Kate smiles to herself and snags the end of the throw from where it's been crammed into the couch cushions. She pulls it up around them both, realizing that this must be what Castle does with the girl; he's turned it into a routine for them.

"Now," Ella says precisely. "When it gets dark enough, my lights come on."

"Oh? Which ones first?"

"Those," Ella murmurs, putting her finger against the glass. It's the building across the street and Ellery could be pointing to any number of apartments. "It comes on soon."

"Oh, do you and Daddy have them timed?"

"Yup. Daddy says they must be on timers, like ours."

And at that very moment, their Christmas lights click on - all through the loft. Ellery giggles and turns her head to Kate, sharing that breathless surprise.

"Like ours. I love our lights."

Kate grins back, glancing around the room. "Me too. Daddy does a good job." The decorating has gotten more and more elaborate every year, but the kids get into it - the arrangement and where things should go this year and how the layout should be - and so Kate gets to sit back and watch.

This year Castle framed every window in rope lights - blue in the study, green and red in the living room and dining area. The Christmas tree has a window of its own, and then the train - the Polar Express - is set up along the windowsills. They hung mistletoe in the doorways, and set up the elaborate nutcrackers to guard the staircase. As usual, Kate took on the duty of putting up their stockings, one for everyone in the family, so she chose the staircase this year: Kate and Rick plus Ellery and Dashiell and Alexis and Rafe, Martha, Jim and Kelly, and now Sophie as well. It took work to get everyone in order too.

"Oh, here it comes, Mama. Soon."

Kate glances back out the window, strokes her fingers through Ellery's hair as they wait. She notes the time on the clock on Castle's desk, turns to the outside world again, snuggling with her daughter deeper into the blanket.

At four-thirty, the apartment two floors down and two windows over illuminates with multi-colored lights.

"Oh," Ellery breathes. "See, see them?"

"I do. Beautiful."

"And now the star," Ella says softly.

Just then, blue lights down the street blink on, brilliant in the shape of a four-pointed star, a string of yellow trailing down to a nativity scene that must be on someone's fire escape.

"Oh, wow," Kate murmurs. "What next?"

"Winking. They wink at us. Right there. In a few minutes."

Kate waits with Ellery, feeling just as breathless in the anticipation as the little girl, and as the minutes drag by, Ella clasps her hands in her lap and leans her head against Kate's shoulder, curling into her.

Kate tilts her mouth down to her daughter's forehead and presses a kiss there - entirely missing the lights when they come on. She lifts her head and laughs as the lights blink off and on in a pattern, lighting up a Christmas tree across the way.

"It's good, right, Mommy?"

"Yeah, cricket. It's so good."

Ella wriggles deeper into Kate, pleased, and her arm wraps around one of Kate's, cuddling closer.

They watch in silence as the rest of their block comes alive with Christmas lights, green and red predominantly, but lines of blue and silver, white and even purple. There are multi-colored strands with twinkling facets, icicles dangling from the facades, even a rooftop stand-up of Santa Claus and the reindeer pulling his sleigh.

Ella's breath catches with every single display, even though Kate knows that the girl has done this every night with her father since Thanksgiving. It's not like she doesn't have it timed to the exact second, but Kate has to admit - it's beautiful. And there's something about having her girl in her arms for it, makes the night _more._

"Magic," Ella whispers.

"Oh. Yes," Kate laughs softly. "That's it exactly. Daddy's so good."

"Daddy didn't do it," Ellery protests. "They did. All those people. For my birthday."

"No, right. You're right. All the people on our block. Lights for your birthday."

Ellery gives a satisfied little smile and tucks her face into Kate's arms, burrowing closer where it's warm. They watch together, lights twinkling and moving, the cheerful displays marking the season, and Kate realizes it's a little hypnotizing. When her daughter begins to stir once more, Kate kisses Ella's temple and turns slowly for the couch cushions again. "Let's drink our coffee and see if Dash has burned the house down yet."

"Uh-oh," Ella says, perking up. "You left him out there alone? Mama. Dash is terrible at the fire."

"Yeah, I know," Kate smiles. "Should we rescue him?"

"I can rescue him," Ella says confidently, peeling out of her mother's arms and hopping down to the floor. "You can bring my coffee?"

"I got both our coffees. Go, cricket."

Ellery darts out of the study, all of her former sulk gone now, and Kate gathers both mugs to follow.

* * *

When naptime is over, Castle brings Sophie downstairs with him and greets his family who have already gathered in the living room for their story.

Castle brushes his hand over Kate's shoulder and kisses his wife's cheek with a smacking of his lips.

She laughs and brushes him off. "Ella and I did lights without you."

"Oh, oops," Castle sighs. "I forgot. Sophie..."

"I know," she says indulgently. Her fingers comb through his hair and she drops a kiss to his cheek. "You're besotted. It's cute when it's not annoying."

Castle laughs, shrugging at her and sinking down onto the couch with the kids. "Okay, guys. You ready for our Christmas story?"

"Yes!" Dashiell fist-pumps and startles Sophie, but Kate takes the baby from him and cuddles with her instead. Castle mourns the loss for a moment, but then his lap is filled with his kids clamoring for the next episode in their story.

He started doing this a few years ago, giving them a new Christmas story every year, and it's turned into an elaborate thing, an episode or chapter every night. Glancing over at Kate to see if she's ready too, he finds her whispering to Sophie, more of that Croatian love language. Suddenly he can see their future - Alexis's kids piled on the couch with Dash and Ella, their family growing deeper.

Wow.

He catches Kate's eye and she smiles at him, a kind of smirk that makes him think she knows exactly what he's envisioning.

"Da-ad," Dashiell complains. "Start the story."

"Right. Okay. Where did we leave it? Ella, remind me."

"All the department store Santas are in a big conspiracy," Ella pipes up. She looks clearly pleased to have remembered _conspiracy._

"Right. And Dash, do we know what the conspiracy is about yet?"

"Nope. But we have clues! They wear their Santa disguises every year near Christmas, they keep track of the kids' wish lists, and they have jumped in their sleighs to ride out to points all over the city."

"Points all over the city - I think you said that phrase exactly," Kate murmurs, raising her eyebrows at him. Lately, they've noticed that Dashiell can recall what's been said word-for-word, like he's got the memory on a video replay in his head. They've been subtly testing him out; it's freaky and amazing and it means that Dash is pretty much never wrong.

"I said that, yeah," he admits. "Okay, so our Santas are all over the city - Harlem, the Bronx, Lower East Side-"

"-Manhattan?"

"Right, Ella, Manhattan too. Central Park. All the places in our city that you can think of - there's a Santa."

"The bell-ringers too, Daddy."

"Oh, right, yes. Salvation Army Santas are part of it too."

"Okay, so what happens next?" Ella says, a little impatient as she squirms in his lap. Dashiell worms his way tighter into Castle's embrace, fighting with Ella for space. Castle grabs the book from the coffee table, the book he had made special for this year, and he flips to their next chapter.

Kate did the illustrations. He had to cajole her for weeks to get her to agree, but they had fun coming up with ideas and she's not that bad.

He starts the story. "It was a dark and stormy night. Snow had begun to fall, obscuring Santa of Macy's vision. He peered intently into the flurry and finally saw what he'd been looking for - the large hourglass hiding in plain sight between the buildings."

"Hourglass?" Ella huffs, lifting up to look at Kate. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Mama. I don't know it. Hourglass?"

"The thing filled with sand, cricket. You flip it over and it keeps time. Like in your Pictionary game."

"Oh, I know it now," Ella sighs, sinking back down into her father's arms. Castle smiles and shakes his head at Dash to keep him quiet; he's afraid Dash will say something smart-alecky about it, that she should have known.

"The hourglass was nearly as tall as Santa, and it only appeared during Christmas Eve - like magic. Macy's reached for the hourglass and wrapped his hand around the wood, ready for what happened next."

"What happened next?" Dash whispers.

"Hush, baby, and we'll find out," Kate nudges him. Even Sophie is looking at Castle, waiting for the next line in the story, so Castle flips over the page with a rumble of pleasure.

"Just like every other Santa in the city, when the time came, Macy's would have to turn the hourglass on its side. Not all the way over - for that would be very, very bad - but on its side, halting the flow of sand and-"

Dashiell gasps - he's reading ahead.

"And stopping time."

"_Stop time_," Ella breathes.

"For now, Macy's would wait until the right moment, when the sky lit up with the signal, so that he and every other Santa would do turn their hourglasses at the exact same time. If they didn't - Christmas would be ruined for millions of little girls and boys."

All four pairs of eyes turn to him - Ella, Dash, Kate, and even little Sophie.

He grins and flips the page.

"Dad, this is the best Christmas story ever."

"Ever," Ellery echoes, for once totally agreeing with her brother. "The Santas are really helpers for Santa in the North Pole. Aren't they, Daddy? All of them are really elves in disguise, and they've gotta be ready to help Santa deliver presents."

"Very smart, cricket. We'll have to see what happens next."

"Read, read, read," Dash says, tapping his hand over the book. "Come on. We get the whole chapter tonight."

"The Santas are magic, aren't they?" Ella goes on, still trying to guess the rest of it.

"Elves make it magic," Dash agrees. "You're right. Right, Dad? The elves make it magic?"

Wow, more agreement between his kids. Amazing.

At his side, Kate leans in and kisses his jaw softly before he can utter another word. Her whisper is for him alone, barely even audible.

"_You_ make it magic. And I love you."


	24. Close Encounters - Chapter One

**Close Encounters**

* * *

**A/N:** Since this is a future Christmas for our spy team, the very nature of the story contains spoilers for the upcoming spy missions and personal relationship issues. Questions are answered in this story that you might want to not know... much like reading the end of the book.

* * *

"I can't wait to see him."

Beckett rolled her eyes and glanced at her overeager spy. She was driving because she couldn't stand another minute of him fiddling with everything, but she had to admit that she'd needed to have something physical to do - to be active about it, about getting there.

"We were only gone two weeks," she told him. "We've both been gone longer than that."

"But not at the same time - for two weeks together, I mean."

The longest they'd been gone from home these past few years was only a four or five days at a time. A long weekend, usually.

"I'm sure he's excited too," Kate finally said. "Dad messaged me to say they were ice fishing but they'd be back at the cabin by the time we get there."

"_Ice _fishing? Are you messing with me?"

Kate laughed, reached across the console to squeeze his thigh. "Sorry, super spy. They really were."

"That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"Not with James," she said softly.

"No," he admitted. His own voice had gone reverent, but when she looked over at him, it was _her_ he was adoring. "You're right. Not your son. Not out here."

She smiled back at him, her breath catching at how he still looked at her, how he had always looked at her, and she had to drag her gaze back to the road.

"You know I was wondering if we shouldn't get the boy a dog."

"He has a dog."

"A younger dog-"

"You trading in for a newer model, Rick Castle?"

He grunted, his laughter smothered by his indignation. "I worry about what happens to James when Sasha... when it's... Wolf isn't a puppy any more, Kate."

"I know," she sighed. She'd been worried lately, the way Sasha had stopped going up and down the stairs. Castle had been carrying her up to James's bedroom at home, both their hearts twisting at the necessity.

"I thought if we got James a two-year-old rescue, something like that? Maybe he'd have a dog that a boy like him needs."

"Sasha isn't able to ice fish, you mean."

"Yeah," Castle replied. He sounded like he regretted it. She did too. Their jobs - their lifestyle - the boy needed more than his grandfather and secretive uncles while they were gone. And it wasn't that they were always out of the country - it was the local work that took up so much time. But Beckett had been the one to insist that they couldn't leave good men and women without support just because their son was getting tucked in by his grandfather for the third night in a row.

They would always see him in the morning. And this way, they made sure the agents under them _also_ got to see their families in the morning.

"We'll talk about it," she said finally. "Adding another one to the mix seems a little irresponsible of us."

Castle laughed. "Point taken. Sasha will need more care the older she gets. Even if James growing up means he needs us less..." His sigh was palpable.

"He won't need us less, Rick. His needs will just evolve. But a dog for Christmas maybe - I promise we'll talk more about it. So long as you talk about inviting Martha-"

"Kate," he sighed.

"James loves her, you know."

"Shit."

"She's his grandmother. And my father started it, I know - I didn't tell him to do it, you know. But I'm glad he did. And it means that James might be expecting Martha to show up sometime this week."

"Damn it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Castle scrub at his face with both hands. She wasn't sorry. The two of them had a rocky relationship, but it was _there_, at least. It was something where before it had been nothing. And she wasn't going to let Castle's natural tendency to shut down on the mother who abandoned him wreck this for James either.

"I'll call her," he said then. "Tomorrow morning - no, tonight. I'll do it tonight. She's always more... awake at night."

Sober, he meant. It hadn't yet become an issue, but she was worried some day it might. "Thank you."

Castle lifted his head and dropped his hands, but already she could tell he'd switched gears. His face was lighting up again as they turned onto the gravel drive that led back to her father's property.

"I can't wait to see him."

Kate felt her answering grin tug the corners of her mouth and she finally admitted to it. "Me either. Two weeks is too long."

Castle laughed. "Considering how long we waited for him - two weeks shouldn't seem so agonizing."

"I think maybe that's exactly why it is."

* * *

The three of them were on the front porch cleaning fish when Kate pulled up. James in his parka and corduroy pants, dark hair chopped short and spiky over those piercing blue eyes. His head came up and he grinned, turned back to his grandfather.

Kate parked the Land Rover and turned off the engine; Castle was already getting out of the car and heading up. She followed behind him, her heart filled with the sight of their six year old.

"Jay," Castle called. "How many did you get?"

"Five. It's dinner. How many did _you_ get, Dad?" James had already stood up, cleaning his hands off with his granddad's rag and antibacterial solution. He looked like Jim as well, little miniature outdoorsman, but he grinned like Castle.

"We got twenty-three," Kate interrupted. "No more talking about work." She raised her eyebrows at both her guys, but James only grinned wider.

"It was a whole group of bad guys." Castle got to the front porch and collared the boy, swung him up in his arms for a hug.

James wasn't the giggling sort - too reserved, too many mannerisms from Kate's father - but he wrapped his arms around Castle's neck and held on tightly.

"Hey, old man," Castle murmured. Kate could hear the way his voice broke a little, saw James's concerned look.

"Dad's fine. He missed you," Kate explained, stepping into the hug to kiss her son's cheek. He grimaced and ducked away from her, rubbing his cheek. She caught his chin in her fingers and kissed him again. "Leave that one alone. I missed you too and I'm your mom. I get to kiss you."

Castle laughed then and set the kid on his feet.

"Hey, Dad," Kate said, moving into her father's arms for a hug. Jim kept his hands wide since they were stinking of fish guts, and Kate was happy to see that her father hadn't been letting James have the knife. She suspected he _did_ actually, since James seemed so keen on helping to clean the fish, but it could just be the blood and guts that fascinated the boy.

"Hey, Katie. How was it?"

"Easy," she promised. And it had been. They weren't stupid and reckless like they used to be - or well, _she_ wasn't. Not as much anyway. She had a nasty scrape across her thigh, and Castle had been caught in some rubble - bruised ribs most likely - but it was par for the course.

"Mom."

Kate turned and glanced at her son; he had his hand out to her, something sparkling in it, shiny. "What's that?" she murmured, picking it up from his palm.

"I found it in the woods with Granddad. It's for you. I've already thought of the story."

She grinned and closed her fingers around the piece of scrap metal, muddy and cold from the forest floor, and she leaned in and kissed her son's cheek again. "Thank you. I love it. You'll tell me tonight?"

"Yeah," he said, standing up a little straighter now, a little taller and more proud. Despite how demonstrative his mother had been.

"Good. Well, Dad is going to unpack us, how about you show me the Christmas tree?"

"We haven't cut it down yet," James said.

"I know. Granddad told me you'd found it though. Show me."

"Sure," James said, brightening at the idea. "Come on!"

He darted down the steps and started rounding the house for the woods that bordered the property and Kate gave a little laugh. She turned to Castle, caught his arm as he moved for the car.

"Hey," she said softly. "Kiss me first."

He grinned at her, came in close to start that hot, searing kiss - their welcome home ritual ever since they'd found out she was pregnant and managed to come through the whole ordeal of that day alive.

When his tongue stroked across hers and his body stepped in close, she found herself crowding in, forgetting her son behind the house in the woods, forgetting her father still on the front porch.

And then Jim cleared his throat and Castle stepped back, hands on her arms, his eyes brilliant and in love with her. He dropped his chin and brushed his lips at her jaw, nipping her ear with his teeth.

"Tonight," he murmured.

She shivered and moved off to find their son.

* * *

Castle was awake before the boy even called out.

He'd been alert for so long now, the regimen coursing through him regularly so that he was battle ready even deep in the winter night with his wife at his side. Even after a thorough welcome home.

When his son called for him, Castle was already on his feet and heading for the bedroom across the hall, though he was surprised James had called for him and not his mother. Last year when the nightmares had started - the intense dreams, really, dreams that had woken him unafraid but still his heart racing - James had always wanted Kate, his mother's fingers brushing his forehead and tucking him in again, settling him.

Even though Castle had grounded them for six months, afraid that their way of life had somehow affected their son's overactive imagination, the vivid dreams had continued. But James had stopped calling out for them, falling back to sleep on his own. In the daylight, he was completely at ease and a happy kid, if still an old soul, and so they'd gone back to their full time work.

Castle hoped the dreams weren't bad again, though the nature of those fragments they'd gotten from the boy were interesting. If they _were_ back, then at least it was Castle he was calling for.

"James?" he said softly at the door. He stood there for a moment more, hesitating when the lump in the bed didn't move, but then his son's face turned towards him on the pillow. "Hey, something wrong?"

"It was another dream, Dad."

Castle came into the room and sat down on the narrow bed, slid his legs under the covers. James lifted to his knees and put his hand on his father's shoulder, but his eyes were on the window.

"It was a dog."

"In your dream?"

"He's hurt, Dad."

"He is?"

"Real bad. And it's snowing out."

Castle glanced out the window, saw that it wasn't snowing at all. But still. "Where's he hurt? You know?"

"I could find it. Why I called for you."

"Good job," he said quietly. "Let's get coats."

"Okay. Mine's... Granddad did something with it. You know where he put it?"

"I can find it, Jay. You get on some shoes, quietly, and meet me in the kitchen. We'll start our rescue mission."

His son clambered over him and to the floor, grinning widely under his dark hair. Those blue eyes were bright in the moonlight and Castle reached out, squeezed his shoulder.

"Good boy. Let's go look for your dream dog."

* * *

They traipsed through the snow side by side, James like a shadow next to his father. Castle had a flashlight but the moon was so bright that he was trying not to use it.

"Where now, Jay?"

James ran a few feet ahead and paused by an old pine tree, his hand resting against the bark. "I think left now, Dad, through there."

Castle followed. Their son had his mother's sense of direction and his grandfather's love of these woods, not to mention copious hours spent here season after season. Castle could get them back if need be, but he had no doubt his six-year-old would do just fine.

"This way, Dad," James said. "I know it now."

"I'm coming," Castle smiled. The moonlight was iridescent along the tree branches; the pine needles seemed vibrant and sharp in his vision. The last eight years had been like this, everything growing clearer, the world in relation to him almost distinct to every molecule.

He'd expected to follow his son around the woods for an hour or so, and then they'd go back inside and warm up, get some hot chocolate, James fall asleep on the couch with him. Castle only needed about four hours and he'd get that without problem, and it seemed James had inherited at least a small amount of some of his... skills.

They still didn't know quite how it would all manifest, but Castle didn't think it was really a problem to go hunting through the woods at midnight. Not if it meant his son felt he was being taken seriously, that his views were important and worthwhile to their family.

Even if his parents were gone so much of the time.

Castle sighed and paused beside his son, waiting for the next spurt of direction, but he realized that James had tilted his pale face up to the sky.

It had begun to snow.

Castle stared at the flakes, though he'd known better than to doubt his son's dreams. Not after what had happened in Russia a year ago, when he'd seen the same word from his son's latest dream spray-painted on the side of a building. He'd pulled Kate and his team out of there. Just in time. Just before the whole place had gone up in a fireball.

At the time, Castle had considered it repayment, the way the Universe made things right. Whatever had been Castle's own childhood, whatever had been taken from Kate, the Universe wouldn't allow James to be shafted like that. Or so Castle liked to think.

But this. He didn't know what to call it, what it was, the dreams, but he was afraid Kate would be wrecked at the thought of their life somehow touching their son. He consoled himself with the knowledge that James hadn't dreamt of fireballs and ash; it had only been a vivid impression of a word he'd spelled out to Castle because he hadn't known what it meant.

_весь. _Though his son couldn't have known Russian, he had dreamed the word for 'everything,' spelled it out in English letters, B-e-c-b, so Castle hadn't made the connection until the graffiti had appeared bright and blue on that building. A warning.

Everything. Right here. Everything.

He'd heeded it. And they had come home alive.

"Dad. Hear that?"

Castle paused in mid-step, the snow falling so softly it was barely even a presence, but his son's dark form ahead of him was eager and vibrating with it.

"Yeah," he said. A whining animal. "James. Behind me."

"But he's right-"

"Now, son. That's an order." Castle held out his hand and lifted an eyebrow and James sighed heavily but scrambled back up the slight embankment and to his father's side.

"He won't hurt me."

"In your dreams, perhaps," he admitted. He cupped the side of the boy's head and drew him back a little more even as Castle crept forward. He heard the pitiful noises the animal was making and estimated fifty yards or so, but he still didn't see anything. "Dog or something else, James?"

"Dog. No, wait. Bad intel, sorry. A puppy, Dad. A small one."

"Ah." Castle headed deeper into the trees and soon found the blood trail, faint drops on the dead leaves, but there. James was at his thigh, and his son made a little noise when he saw it, but he didn't dart out ahead. Castle had a strange peace settle in his heart when his son stayed at his side, doing as he'd been told, staying safe. He reached back and squeezed James's neck.

"There, Dad."

"I see it." The puppy had dragged itself to the base of a deciduous tree, its small body tangled up in the roots for what protection it could afford him. Castle came to his haunches in front of the dog and studied it a moment. It was a mutt, but it had long legs and a curling tail, wolf ancestors maybe or at least some kind of cold weather dog.

"Dad, his neck."

"I see it, James," he murmured. He reached out cautiously, palm up and fingers relaxed, and the dog whined pitifully but didn't snap at him. Blood spotted his ruff, and he didn't seem to have even the energy to sniff at Castle's fingers. "Jay, you have a name for him in your dream?"

"No."

"He'd feel better if he had a name."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, so think about that while I try to get him out from here." Castle pulled the sleeves down on his leather coat and reached for the puppy again, easing his fingers to the wound. The dog whined and yelped when Castle probed, and he winced in sympathy. It was deep; he needed attention.

"Dad?"

Despite James's old soul, he was only six. Maybe if the boy was seven, Castle would have him run back for his mother, but six - he couldn't ask it of him, even though he was certain the boy knew the way back. "I'm going to carry him home, all right?"

"Yeah. I think his name's Tock."

"Is that from a book?" he asked, easing the dog against his chest and then standing slowly.

"Yeah. Mom read it to me. Granddad finished it."

"Sounds good. I like Tock. You like your new name, Tock?"

The puppy was licking his shirt and his hand where it cradled the furry body, but it was weak.

"He likes it," James said. "I'm glad we came."

Castle would never say it was because of the dream, and James hadn't seemed to make the connection. He'd never tell his son about Russia - and the reality of this would eclipse whatever dream he'd had. "I'm glad we came out tonight too. Let's get him home, okay?"

"Thanks, Dad," the boy said. His hand slipped into Castle's coat pocket and Rick glanced down at his son. The dark hair fell over his forehead and obscured his eyes, but his smile was bright.

He thought maybe he was doing this right. Fatherhood. Maybe their family didn't look like everyone else's, but it worked.


	25. Close Encounters - Final Chapter

**Close Encounters**

* * *

"Good job, doc," she whispered, winking at him.

Castle smiled back, and Kate slid in close enough to wrap her arm around her husband's waist. She watched her son as he slept, laid out alongside Sasha, the dog curled protectively around their new charge - Tock.

"A couple stitches," he murmured. "That's all. Got good experience working on you."

She pressed her lips together; she knew he'd wanted to stitch up the cut on her thigh. "It's fine, Rick. Bleeding stopped before we even got on the plane."

"I worry."

"It's not cute."

"That's not what you said earlier, baby."

She snorted at him and shook her head, but she couldn't help tugging on his belt loop and drawing him after her. She went to the couch, stepping carefully over the tangle of bodies on the floor, puppy and dog and boy, and Castle came with her. They sank down together, and he twined around her, arms and legs both, her back to his chest.

Castle's chin sank down on top of her shoulder, his cheek rubbing against hers. She brought her hand over his at her stomach, stroked the backs of his fingers as she watched their son.

"So I guess he gets a dog of his own after all?" she said.

Castle chuckled, shifted behind her so that she could lean back, her cheek against his shoulder now, fitting in against him. The sun was beginning to rise after their long, middle-of-the-night emergency surgery, and her body was heavy with exhaustion.

"I guess so," Castle answered, his lips at her ear. "Though we should ask around, see if someone's lost a dog. Before we tell James he can keep it."

"Not a wolf though," Kate said.

Her eyes were falling shut and her senses narrowing down to the point of Castle's palm at her thigh, his other hand stroking lightly along her ribs.

Ribs. His ribs. "Am I hurting you?"

"Already mostly healed, Kate. And no. Not a wolf. Maybe a wolf-dog like Sasha - somewhere back there."

"James is calling him Tock," Kate smiled, tilting her head back to look at Castle. "I read him The Phantom Tollbooth - he adores that book, especially when Milo and Tock rescue the princesses from the castle of air."

Castle laughed softly at her ear, his palm spreading wider over her torso, his pinky finger inching under her shirt. The heat bloomed between them, easy and right. "I might have to read that book now."

"You didn't tell me how you guys found him. Why was James up in the middle of the night?"

Castle's hand paused. "Dream," he sighed finally.

Kate stiffened and the twist of guilt on Castle's face made her force herself to relax. Nothing was wrong with him, with either of them, nothing was wrong. If James ever did... need the regimen, they had enough, plenty; they had what it would take.

"He's fine, Kate."

"He's just a little... super," she murmured, reassuring herself. "A dream?"

"I'd call it a little more than super," Castle said carefully. "He woke me because he dreamed a dog hurt in the snow and so we went out there and it started snowing and there was Tock."

She pulled out of his embrace, crossing her arms over her chest and chewing on her lower lip. "Castle. Are we having this conversation? Because the last time I brought this up, you nearly bit my head off."

"Last time he was a nine month old walking a little ahead of schedule. Now he's... dreaming. And the dreams have some basis in reality, Kate."

She shivered and glanced at their son, side by side with his best friend and the little rescued puppy. "One dream, Castle."

"No. This is two."

"Two?" she hissed, her head jerking around to stare at him. "Castle."

"The first one wasn't - I didn't realize until after it had already come and gone. I should have said something, but I didn't want it to be true. For your sake, because of - and for mine too. And for his. I don't know what this means for him."

"Wait. Back up. The first dream he had. Tell me." She made an effort to relax, chill out. James was fine; healthy check-ups his whole life if maybe a little too healthy. He'd never been sick a day in his life. It wasn't exactly normal, but it was normal for a Castle.

"Remember when that building in Samara went up?"

She nodded, her throat closing up, the remembered sensations of ash and intense heat. She hated Samara, hated that part of the Russian steppe. It'd been a last-minute operation and necessary - they'd saved a young man's life and successfully exfiltrated their agent under cover - but she would never be completely at ease there.

"You said - a hunch," she murmured, closing her eyes. "It wasn't a hunch."

"It was. Honestly, Kate, I don't know that I... it was a combination of things. The building had been tagged with a riot of graffiti. I just happened to see one word in Russian before we headed inside."

"Which word?"

"Everything."

She murmured the Russian word and shook her head. "So?"

"That's... our word," he said, shrugging his shoulders at her. "I mean, kinda stupid, I know. To have a word, but we-"

"It's not stupid," she said quietly. "You're everything to me, Castle. I wouldn't say that word lightly."

"I don't take it lightly," he rumbled. His voice sounded thick, serious. He was staring at her. "It's a weighted word for us - but in _English_. And seeing it scrawled on the side of a building shouldn't have meant anything."

"But it did."

"James had a dream. He told me he was reading funny words. At the time, I just figured his sleeping brain was reordering letters or whatever. But he spelled out the word he saw: B-e-c-b."

"Oh, oh that's - if you don't know Russian, and you looked at _весь _you would spell it with English letters. Oh, God."

"Yeah."

She pressed her hand to her forehead, mind racing. "It's... okay, it's a strange coincidence. But Castle, it could be anything at all. I don't believe in psychics or ESP or - I don't even _know_. All that stuff seems true because you want it to be true, but it's really generalities that could apply to anyone."

"We don't know, Kate. That's the point. But it became a message to me, just as you said. Applying it to me, it meant something in that moment. And so I yanked us out of there."

Goose bumps crawled across her skin. She felt unnerved by the strange connection it presented.

"Okay, then," she whispered. "Your DNA is in him. And we both have to admit that we don't know what it does. We have no way of knowing, Rick."

He bowed his head and rubbed at his eyes. Sometimes he had headaches now, because of the regimen?, but that was something else they had no way of knowing. All of it was unknown, and at least James had his father going ahead of him, trailblazing.

"We're in uncharted territory here, sweetheart," she murmured, drawing her arms around his neck and sliding into his lap. She closed her eyes to feel him breathe, every rise and fall of his chest, the clear sound of his heart beating.

"He's fine," Castle said. His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. "I'm fine. We're good, Kate. I promise."

"I've started believing in your promises," she sighed. "Even though I shouldn't. You shouldn't. Life can turn out so differently from what we intend."

"Life is already what we intend, isn't it?" His forehead lifted from hers so she opened her eyes, saw him nod towards the sleeping bodies on the floor. "We intended that. And this here." His hand released her hair and trailed around her neck, down to her chest, pressing his fingers to her heart. "This between us. Intentional, Kate."

She nodded, closing her hand around his, keeping him there. "It's work, and I choose it, and even if loving you isn't really something I ever meant to do, I don't know what I'd be without this."

"There will be _no_ without."

Empty promises from any other man. But she believed him, believed in him, them, and what they did together. They'd created that unique boy asleep with his dogs, they'd created the force of nature that was their burning, thought not consuming, love for each other, and they'd done it against the odds.

"No without," she echoed. Her mouth came to his cheek, the give of skin and the scrape of his scruff at her lips, raw. She brushed back and forth, tantalizing them both, her body ready to accept anything he had to offer.

"We will do," he gruffed, "whatever we have to do to preserve us. A few dreams can't hurt us."

"I know," she confessed. "I believe. And if a few dreams save our lives, bring us back to each other, then I don't care how or why."

She cradled his face in her hands, let herself inspect the dark pupil and the fierce love that radiated from it in bursts of blue that were seamed with light.

He came in and broke her concentration with a kiss, lips to lips, mouths opening now and swallowing stumbling breaths, tongues and heat and intensity. She pushed her hands under his shirt and climbed his abs, pressed her palms to his chest to feel him.

"Let's leave the wolf pack out here," he murmured. "Take you to the bedroom and do this right."

"Yes," she insisted, wanting his shirt off, his hands on her, wanting harder and his hand over her mouth to hold it in. "Castle, now."

He stood from the couch, wrapping an arm under her ass to hold her up, and carried her off even as the sun finally broke from the earth and entered the cabin with grey-white, dazzling dawn.

* * *

Beckett wrapped her fingers around the mug to keep them warm, brought her knees up to the porch swing. It was snowing again, but the flakes were loose and light, lacing the tree branches and dappling the porch railing. She'd brought the quilt from the bottom of the bed to block the wind, but she'd also pulled on one of Castle's FBI sweatshirts and stolen one of his Christmas presents - thick wool socks.

"Uh-huh. Thought I'd find you out here."

She glanced over her shoulder and saw her father standing in the doorway, shaking his head at her. He was wearing the gaudy red button-up sweater that James had picked out for him in a fit of sudden independence. Deer stags were knitted with brown yarn into the pockets. It looked like her father adored it; she should have known.

He shifted and called back into the cabin, "She's out here."

From inside, Carrie shouted back, "Ask her if she wants special egg nog."

"You want?"

Kate laughed. "Yeah, actually. My coffee is getting cold."

"Here, let me take your mug and I'll have your husband bring it out."

She leaned to the side and reached across the distance, holding out the coffee cup to her father. Jim took it and winked at her, let the porch door slam shut after him. The sound brought Sasha slinking around the side of the house and up the steps, her tread careful and slow.

"Hey, my sweet girl," Kate called to her. She held her hand out and Sasha came up to her, licking and nuzzling Kate's palm. "You feel better in the cold, huh? Or maybe the puppy was getting on your nerves."

Sasha woofed low in her throat and settled down right below the porch swing, her muzzle on her paws. Kate leaned back against the wooden slats of the swing and the door opened again.

Castle came out with two mugs, handing her one.

"Thanks."

"No problem. It's extra spicy, Carrie said."

"Did Mitch...?"

"He's not coming," Castle sighed, sinking down onto the swing beside her. She had to scoot over and rearrange the quilt to include him, but as always, he was hot-blooded against her, heating her up.

"Mm, you feel good," she murmured, dipping her mouth to the mug. She smelled the rum in the egg nog and when it hit her tongue and slipped down her throat, it created a little burn that spread through her limbs.

"What're you doing out here?"

She shrugged. "Miss my mom." But it wasn't entirely the truth. Christmas was - had been awful to her once upon a time. He'd been infected with a super bug that had nearly stolen him from her, and all their talk about James's dreams, about the regimen, had brought it up again. The grief of watching him suffocate in a hospital bed would never leave her.

"Your mom." His arm spread over the back of the porch swing and his fingers touched her shoulder. "And?"

She chewed on her lower lip to keep the heaviness out of her voice when she answered. "Yeah. And."

He knew; he knew now what it was like for her, how sometimes she couldn't battle past that feeling that she might lose him. Even after all this time, here it was, another ghost to haunt her at Christmas.

"Not happening, Kate," he said quietly. "Not going anywhere. Neither is James."

She came into him, let him take her weight, and some of the sadness as well, and the cold winter air pushed sharp and clear in her lungs to dispel the malaise even as his heat warmed her. Alive, alive, breathing under her ear.

"It's how it is," she answered finally. "No matter the house filled up in there, or the way James looked when he opened his Army knife - just how it is."

"I know," he said. His fingers came to her neck and squeezed, his thumb bumping over her spine. "Next time grab me though? I'll come out into the cold with you, sweetheart."

She smiled, her hands around the mug, and took another sip to delay the inevitable. They should probably go back inside, back with her father and Carrie, his mother and their son. But the twilight through the trees and the bare dusting of snow made her content to stay, content to feel his heart beating under her, a steady assurance, a promise of the future.

The door opened and Kate turned her head, saw James standing on the porch. The puppy had been appropriated by Martha, who'd exclaimed over the poor thing, so James's hands were empty.

But she bet the Army knife was in his pocket.

"Hey," Castle said, first the break the silence. As usual. "You cold standing out here?"

James shrugged. "Not really," he replied, eyeing their nest with something like apprehension. "It's cold out here but I'm warm."

Like his father, Kate thought. Jim had cropped James's hair too short on the back and the sides, but the front hung over his brow in spikes, hiding his snow-blue eyes. Those were Castle's too, the eyes, and she wondered what other genetic markers her super spy had left on their son.

Sleeping DNA. She had to believe that whatever the future held for their son, she and Castle could make it right, make it work - just as they had made it work since they'd met.

James moved towards the swing and dropped down on his haunches beside Sasha. "She's getting old, isn't she?"

Kate sighed. "Yeah, honey. She is. She's an old dog."

"She has trouble on the stairs now. I know. I seen her." James reached out and petted Sasha slowly, moving over her nose, back along the top of her head, and down to her ruff. "She follows me when I'm out in the woods, but she doesn't run any more."

Castle shifted forward and wrapped his fingers around Sasha's tail, petting. "You're smart to notice all of that, Jay. She probably shouldn't be trying to keep up with you. She might need to take more naps during the day too."

James put his elbow on his knee and his head on his fist. "But I still love her."

Kate lifted her toe and nudged his knee, making him rock back. "That's good. You don't stop loving her just because she can't play with you like she used to. And now you'll have Tock to wrestle and be rough with."

"After Tock gets better, you mean."

Castle chuckled. "You're right. After he gets better."

James lowered his torso and put his head near Sasha's, wrapped his arms around her. "I won't play rough with you and I'll let you sleep all you want and I'll be gentle. I promise."

Kate lowered her foot and brushed it over the top of Sasha's body, watching her son love on the dog. He was always down with the dog, from the time he'd been a baby, fascinated with their Sasha, reaching for her fur with both hands. Now James lifted his head, giving them both a closed-faced look, from his mother to his father.

"Can I crawl in with you?"

"Of course," Kate said, unwrapping the quilt once more. Castle was already reaching out for James, drawing him up with a hand around the kid's upper arm. He crawled in with them, a little stiff, her reserved boy, but he laid his cheek against his mother's shoulder and let Kate tuck the blanket around the three of them.

Castle wrapped his arms around them, tugged both of them into his chest, layered together on the porch swing. His nose nuzzled into Kate's ear, a puff of breath as he teased her, and suddenly James twisted around, wrapped his thin arms around their necks, hugging them tightly.

Surprised, Kate hugged him back, felt Castle at her side doing the same. She rubbed her palm through his spiky hair and kissed his cheek softly.

"You okay, James?"

"It's a good Christmas," he mumbled. "Right? It's a really good Christmas."

"Yeah," Castle said quietly. "All of us together, the new puppy in our family-"

"My Army knife."

Kate laughed, brushed her hand through her son's hair again. "Let's not forget the knife."

Castle caught her eyes, his grin all too smug. _See? I told you every boy needs a knife._

"I had this dream too," James said then.

Castle went still, as if listening and studying, but Kate pulled enough away to look at her son. "You had this dream?"

"Yeah. It's a good dream. I like this dream the most. Christmas is my favorite."

Kate felt her eyes swim, but Castle's fingers gripped her neck and pulled her down to him. Instead of finding anything to say to that, her son's heartfelt contentment, she kept her silence, taking James's lead, and they stayed curled up on the porch swing together, a family, watching the snow drift through the dark sky.

* * *

Stay Tuned for **New Year's Eve/Day** - a Castle Christmas Special post: **Advent**


	26. Advent - Final Chapter

**Advent**

* * *

The creepy music swells and the certainty of a coming doomsday presses hard on his shoulders.

He did this. He let Tyson back out into the world and he _tried_, he really tried, but here it is again.

Kate growls and reaches past him to yank the flash drive out of Castle's laptop. She closes her hand around it in a fist, her face furious. "No."

"Kate," he groans.

"No," she insists. "I don't believe it."

"He's alive. Tyson is alive and he's-"

"Not here," she says. He can't tell whether she means Tyson himself isn't here - it was just a song on a flash drive - or if she means that she doesn't want that in her home.

He doesn't either.

"We are not doing this again this year," she scrapes out. "No more Tyson."

"But he-"

"Not this, please. Not this year, not for Thanksgiving - not for _Christmas_ - our first holidays here. Castle, please."

His heart shivers and he ducks his head. "Okay. I - you're right."

"We'll figure this out; I promise you," she says softly. He finds her just in front of him now, her fist easing. "We have to do it right, without panicking, slowly. Not - not another rabbit hole."

It brings him up short, the need on her face, the need to be _free._ Isn't that what he tried so hard to do for her two years ago with the Advent Calendar? To set her free. He won't do that to her now, enslave her to another case with no end in sight.

"I'm sorry," he rasps. "We won't. Not now."

Her arms come around his waist and she tucks in close to him, her head under his chin. "Just not now."

But eventually, right, Kate? Eventually they will have to deal with Tyson.

* * *

"You know what I've realized?" she says suddenly.

Castle startles into awareness, jerking the mattress with his violent awakening. "Huh?"

"Our Advent Calendar has twenty-five days."

"So?" he mutters back, rubbing his hand down his face. It's too early for a conversation and they have everyone coming over for Thanksgiving dinner today; he needs sleep.

"So? So day twenty-five is Christmas Day exactly. So all the other calendars only have twenty-four days."

"Well that's stupid. There are twenty-five days," he says, brow knitting.

"But in a _countdown_, Castle, there should only be twenty-four," she huffs, poking her finger in his ribs. He grunts and turns onto his side to look at her, give her the attention she apparently thinks this deserves.

He tries to focus. "Okay, so. A countdown has - oh, I see. Right. Because counting down to the actual day means the day itself shouldn't be in the countdown. Huh."

"See? Where did you _get_ this calendar?"

He turns and looks over his shoulder at the behemoth set up in their bedroom; Kate pulled it out early. "Someone made it. Street fair down in the Village. Lots of booths for Christmas."

"Well, now what are we supposed to do?"

"Fill up the days like we said," he laughs, shrugging at her. "Doesn't change the plan, Beckett."

She sighs. "But if you have odd numbers, then you'll have more than me and-"

"Drop it," he grumbles now. "Not a big deal. One more day?" He's panicking a little bit because if she changes things on him now - everything is ruined. She's got the even days and he's got the odd days, and it has to be like this. "It's not like we're doing anything big. It's just fun - a tradition to keep going for our family."

She sighs and he shifts to roll slowly on top of her, quirking an eyebrow and hoping to distract her. Kate hums and a hand lifts to the nape of his neck, strokes at his hair. Her eyes have gone dark, deep, and he grins.

She's distracted.

* * *

The day after Thanksgiving they sit down at their kitchen table with twenty-five colored paper squares. Alexis helped them cut the strips last week when they figured out what they wanted to do with the Advent calendar - when they decided to share it this year. It's like over-large confetti, and it's their plan.

They put words into their Advent Calendar this year, words for their family, moments for each day together. She has the even dates and Castle has the odd, and they spend nearly two hours writing down a purpose for every slip of paper, sharing their ideas and suggestions, laughing over memories of the past couple years.

They fold each square of paper and slide them inside the windows of the Advent Calendar, filling up the skyline of the apartment buildings with twenty-five blessings for the last of the year. Each note gives them a tradition for their own season, a way of claiming it together and blending their lives, a message of hope, instructions for the future.

The month of holiday tradition starts soon, and they're ready now.

* * *

_December 1st:_ They decorate their home for Christmas: garland and lights, the tree and Alexis's handmade ornaments. Castle drags her out to raid the seasonal store in SoHo, picking out extravagantly-priced wreaths for every window, and LED candles to place in the windowsills.

She finds wooden blocks painted turquoise and red that spell out _Merry Christmas_ and she can't help putting them in the basket as well. When Castle sees her getting into the spirit of things, his smile makes her heart flip. He reaches out and pushes her hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek, and she wants every day to be like this.

* * *

They cut out paper snowflakes and hang them from the ceiling of their bedroom. Kate vetoes coating them with glitter, saying she doesn't want to wake up with sparkles in her mouth. But that's okay because the snowflakes dip low enough to skim the top of his head, and he has to part curtains of paper with his hands when he heads into his office, making it like a child's winter wonderland. She looks thrilled whenever she steps into their room; she looks like Christmas is finally - for her - about family once more.

When she reaches out and touches a snowflake, he can envision her sitting at their kitchen table with a girl of their own, carefully cutting paper together, carrying on the tradition.

* * *

Today's instructions tell them to head out into the neighborhood. They walk through the houses of lights, hand in hand, the wonder and awe filling the dark spaces between them. The night isn't quiet - it's children and families and snarky comments about the electricity bill - and her feet are sweating in her wool socks and boots, but his fingers laced with hers feel right. It feels so very right.

* * *

Kate's note on December 6th tells Castle _Pay off the mortgage_ and his joy as he writes the check for the last of their home makes her heart pound. _Thank you for letting me_ he murmurs to her that night, his mouth against her skin. _Thank you for letting me take care of us._

Their home is their own, bought and paid for, and she doesn't mind. She likes it.

She owns a home with Castle, and she cups his face and whispers her gratitude back to him. _You always take care of us._

* * *

One evening they dress up to watch the Nikki Heat movie, inviting everyone to their home for the DVD premiere. A party filled with all the people in their lives who have made Nikki Heat possible - Lanie and Espo, the Ryans, even Captain Gates and her husband attend. Of course there are Martha and Jim, Alexis and her new boyfriend - the family who have stood with them in these last few complicated years.

The movie plays in the background, the living room and kitchen filled with their extended family, and they drink and laugh and eat too much, feel like the world is their own. It's a movie, but it's life as well, and they're working on their own wonderful story.

* * *

One morning Castle wakes her early (he has espresso and it smells fantastic, lures her out of bed before she realizes). They head out to her father's cabin, according to the day's gift, and make it into a holiday for him. A few presents, a fire in the hearth, Kate and her father making breakfast for dinner. Jim has a gift for Alexis that Kate didn't know anything about and the look on Castle's face makes everything in her vision shimmer, but she won't cry. Not today.

She takes her partner on a walk through the woods before it can rain that evening, and they watch the snow geese pushing through sheets of ice on the lake. They don't have speak, and she likes that about him - how he's found another way to say _I love you_ by saying nothing at all.

Because they sit so very still - side by side on the massive star-watching rock, feeling the earth spinning under them - a doe and her two fawns come hesitantly through the trees, nosing into the ground. Kate lets out an icy breath, and the doe pricks its ears. The deer lift their heads and - in concert - leap away.

"Did you know," Castle begins in a quiet rumble, "that Santa's sleigh is pulled by all female reindeer?"

"Do what?" she laughs, startling a bird from the tree closest to their rock. It wings into the thick clouds and disappears.

"It's true. Male reindeer lose their antlers before December. Female reindeer retain theirs until the spring. So all those pictures of a fat white guy being dragged through the sky by Comet and Donder and Blitzen? They have antlers - so they're all female."

"Girl power," she grins. "Is that true?"

"Of course it's true."

Huh. "Dash away all," she murmurs, tilting her head back to glance at the murky sky.

No reindeer. But it makes sense that all the storybooks got it wrong. Very rarely is the full story told, she's discovered.

* * *

On December 15th, Kate pulls the yellow slip of paper from the window and laughs, waking him in the still-dark morning. Castle rolls over and looks at her, blinking slowly against the pillow, and then his leer stretches across his face as he remembers what he wrote - his _suggestion._

She comes back to bed and makes it happen.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she murmurs.

Wow. Yeah. Merry Christmas.

* * *

When Kate meets Alexis outside the campus center, the girl looks excited. She digs into her bag and pulls out a package. "I thought we could try different shapes?" Triangles, squares, diamonds.

Kate laughs and takes the clear plastic package, shakes the cookie cutters inside. "That might be interesting. Diamonds?"

"You don't mind? I know they're your mom's cookies, and it's a family tradition, but see these? They've also got little gingerbread men, and with the filling, it'd be like their guts."

Kate presses her lips together and shakes her head. These Castles. "Alexis, don't worry. You did good. I think it's a great idea." She wraps an arm around Alexis's shoulder and pulls the girl into a hug. "You ready to make our Christmas cookies? Now with - what did you say? blood and guts? - now with added blood and guts."

* * *

It's working for them both, their Advent Calendar. It brings all the beautiful things of the holiday into their life together - peace and joy, hope and goodwill. They give out coins to the bell-ringing Santas again, this time including Alexis's new boyfriend, a good experience for Castle to glimpse the kid's heart. A few nights later they deliver meals to the shut-ins on the same route they had last year - finding new stories and the same familiar faces made joyful by their visit.

They are flourishing together, in ways Kate never expected and Castle could only dream of.

* * *

One night when the ice threatens the power lines and hangs heavy on the trees, Kate finally makes it home - hours late. She unbuttons her coat in the darkened foyer and hangs it in the closet, unzips her boots and carries them with her up the stairs.

She finds Castle asleep in his office, his face limned with icy light from the front windows. She brushes the hair off his forehead and kisses him there, leaves him to his slumber for a little while longer.

Ever since the Nieman case, ever since Castle thoughtlessly plugged a flash drive into his laptop and the song haunted their home, Kate's been working to get them past that crack in their foundation.

Her knee-jerk reaction was to deny it was Tyson at all, to close her eyes and ears to it, pretend it wasn't there. But she knows that it sits heavy on Castle's shoulders, a failure and a burden, a responsibility that she understands all to well. Last year Kate managed to reclaim for him that sense of home, and this year as they've opened each little window on the day, they've pushed out that fear from their lives and remade it into their own.

They're partners. They're in this together.

Kate goes through the door to the other side of the house, searching the rooms for Alexis's presence. His daughter has a tendency to stay in the loft with her grandmother, and it looks like she's there now - or back on campus - and so it's just Kate and Castle tonight.

She steps lightly down the back stairs and through the playroom that Castle has turned into a massive entertainment center. She picks up a blanket from the floor and folds it, hangs it over the back of his video game chair. She finds packages of empty popcorn and throws those away, shaking her head at him. She leaves the tv room and moves through to the more formal living room. She turns on the gas logs, thinking she'll bring him downstairs later tonight to curl up in front of the fire, and then she continues her house-check by stopping in the kitchen.

She pours a glass of wine and pushes a hand into her pants pocket, feels the flash drive warm to her touch. She takes a sip of wine and carries the glass into the front dining room to turn on the overhead light, watches the golden glow over the Advent Calendar.

It's taken her five weeks to collect every last scrap of available evidence on the Tyson case. She went to old storage rooms in the basements of some of New York's precincts, called her counterparts in New Jersey, even had to Skype with a Captain in Florida to beg for copies of the murders there. Captain Gates and Esposito and Ryan made cold calls and sent down requests to a hundred different places, begging for details, for video, for photos. Most of it won't stand up in court, but like Castle said - it all points to motive and method, gives them an idea of what to look for and how Tyson - or Nieman - might do it next time.

Because she believes Castle. The murders will continue. They're partners in this.

Kate thumbs the flash drive and sets her wine glass on the dining room table, studies the Advent Calendar. The twilight sky, the points of stars, the apartment skyline - it's beautiful and simple and a little overwhelming, just as it looked to her two years ago on her own dining room table, back before she ever believed they could do this.

Partners.

This is why she collected every scrap of evidence, scanned it, and put it on a flash drive for him. Because he did this for her - made her believe.

Kate reaches out and slides the edge of her fingernail into the casement, opens the window on day twenty-five. _Merry Christmas_, she thinks, transferring the flash drive into the little space.

But it won't fit.

Kate frowns. This is the same brand of flash drive he used to load her playlist, so it _should_ fit. Maybe the paper square he folded has popped up and is blocking the way.

She swipes her finger through the space behind the window, jerking back in shock when she feels the skittering, hard curve of metal.

Her heart falters.

Kate leans down and looks inside the window, finds the the thing that has been filling up the twenty-fifth day.

It's a ring.

It's a _huge,_ diamond ring.

* * *

Castle laughs and tugs her by the belt loop, pulling her away from the coffee-maker so he can get there first. "What's up with you? You're all jittery."

Kate slants him a look for beating her to the coffee, shrugs in a way that's entirely not helpful. "You know. Christmas Eve."

"Oh," he murmurs, concern flashing through him. "Does it - is it too much this year? We already had our big party; tonight is just Alexis and my mother. I promise we'll-"

"It's not too much," she whispers. Her kiss is light and delicate against his lips, thoroughly distracting. When she sinks back flat-footed, he realizes she's maneuvered him away from the coffee. "Now move. Me first. I need caffeine."

Castle laughs and braces himself on the counter, framing her hips so he can nudge his nose into the hair at her neck. She smells clean from the shower, the scent of soap and something musky, and he breathes another kiss below her ear.

She doesn't miss a beat, pours coffee into both their mugs, fixes his first despite her _me first _comment. She turns in his arms and presses the cup into his chest, pushes him back. He takes it with a smile, sipping slowly, and they share the morning quiet.

Christmas Eve. She'll go in to work for her shift and come home to him in time for dinner; they'll open presents like his family always does, but not all of them - concession to her family's traditions. Christmas Day... Christmas Day she'll open the calendar window and receive the biggest present of all. He can't wait.

He grins and leans forward, brushes a coffee-rich kiss to her mouth. She hums and sinks into it, a touch of her tongue to his, sharing flavors, and then she breaks away. "Advent?"

"Yeah," he grins. He's lost track of which traditions they haven't accomplished yet, what her slip of paper might say. Weeks ago when they wrote all of these down, he couldn't believe how hard it was to think of good things to write, and now he's pretty sure they've run through everything important.

Oh, well. He'll find out soon enough.

Kate follows him into the dining room, her warmth just at his back. He settles his coffee mug down on the table and notices a wine glass off to one side, half full. "What's this from? The party? I thought I got everything-"

"No, that's mine," she says, brushing past him and grabbing the glass by its stem. "Forgot it the other night."

He watches her a second, surprised she was so distracted, but she sets the wine glass on the mantle of the dining room's fireplace and nods towards the calendar. He turns back and pushes his finger into day twenty-four, flicks it open.

The paper is white. He didn't think any of those squares they cut were white. Wasn't the paper multi-colored?

Castle feels Kate's fingers close around his upper arm, her cheek against his shoulder, and he reaches forward to pull out the slip.

It's not a square. It's a jagged scrap of computer paper and when he opens it, all it says is _yes._

"Ye-" Castle stumbles to a stop and jerks his head around to Kate. She lifts from his shoulder, and her lips are doing a poor job of smothering her smile, and her eyes are filled with dark pools of joy.

"Yes," she says. "Since you open your gifts on Christmas Eve - yes. That's your present."

"Yes," he breathes. She said yes._  
_

"Can I have my ring now?" she murmurs, smiling wider. "It's beautiful, Rick. And I want to wear it."

His heart stutters back into rhythm and he cups her cheeks, brings her into him for a kiss. Her mug of coffee sloshes between them, the slip of paper with her answer pressed by his fingers into her neck, and she laughs against his lips.

"You sneaking through the days, Kate Beckett?"

"I was putting _your_ gift into Christmas Day," she murmurs, another kiss at his cheekbone. "Wanted you to open it."

"My gift? You just gave me my gift," he says, smiling at her and stroking his thumb over her soft bottom lip. "Best gift of my life."

She melts into him, arms wrapping around his neck as she presses closer. He puts her coffee mug on the table behind them, moves to embrace her as well. She feels so good in his arms, strong and warm.

"I wrapped it up instead. You'll get it under the tree tomorrow, Rick."

"Mm," he murmurs. "Since we're switching traditions, then I suppose you can have your gift today."

"Oh, yes, please." She pushes back from him and heads straight for the Advent Calendar, opens the last day - _totally breaking the rules, Beckett_ - and scoops out the ring. But she turns and hands it to him, their fingers brushing as he takes it.

"Other hand, Beckett," he murmurs.

She switches with a laugh, holding out her left hand, and he slides the diamond over her finger, leaning down to kiss her knuckle. He feels her other hand come to the back of his head, scratching through his scalp. Her kiss glances his eyebrow as he lifts his gaze to her and she smiles at him.

"And Happy New Year, Rick."

* * *

**Happy and Blessed New Year!**

Thank you all for every word, every response, every moment of compassion, and every smile. May 2014 bring you hope and peace.


End file.
